Harry Potter awoke with a pounding headache and looked blearily around in the darkness. It took a few moments to realize where he was, but as soon as he located his glasses, he recognized the familiar surroundings of the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt and uncle’s house. The only question was, how had he gotten there? The last thing he could remember was... Harry scratched his head in confusion. What was the last thing he could remember? He knew that he had just returned home for the summer holiday, but where had he returned from? He tried to focus his thoughts on some recent memory, but only succeeded in making his temples throb even harder and bringing on a powerful feeling of nausea. Everything for the past five years or so was a complete blur, and he found himself unable to focus on any of it.

Sighing deeply as he closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his temples in an effort to lessen the pain, Harry lay back down on his broken-down camp bed. He was just about to drift back off to sleep when he was startled back into full consciousness by very loud pounding on his cupboard door.

“Wake up, boy!� shouted the voice of Harry’s Uncle Vernon. “We haven’t got all day to wait around for you. If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m leaving you locked in that cupboard, and good luck trying to get out before we come back at the end of the summer!�

Harry knew it was an idle threat. His uncle might be mean and vindictive, but he would never leave another person locked up with no food, water, or bathroom for two months - not even if that person was Harry. Still, it was never a good idea to be on Uncle Vernon’s bad side, so Harry jumped out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could, still trying to ignore the pounding in his head. No sooner did he emerge from the cupboard than Uncle Vernon forced him out the front door and into the backseat of the car, next to his enormous cousin, Dudley. Apparently, he had missed breakfast.

Harry fought to silence his growling stomach as the car rolled out onto the street, but it was no use - he was so hungry that he suspected he had skipped supper the night before, and perhaps lunch as well, although he couldn’t be sure. He almost considered asking for something to eat, but decided against it before the thought had fully formed. If he remained quiet, he was likely to get some sort of lunch, even though it probably wouldn’t be very good. If he asked for anything, though, or even mentioned that he was hungry, Uncle Vernon would complain of his ungratefulness and force him to wait until supper just to teach him a lesson.

Harry awoke from his thoughts in the middle of one of his uncle’s rants. Predictably, the current subject of his verbal attacks was Harry himself.

“-and brawling! It’s a wonder the boy even remembers his own name after that blow to the head. Just who does he think he is, coming home unconscious like that? That school had better not think I’m paying for any treatment they gave him. If it had been up to me, Petunia, they’d have just left him where he fell. If he woke up, he woke up; if not, so much the better.�

Aunt Petunia nodded furiously and said, in a placating tone, “I think they said the other boy’s parents were paying for the hospital bills.�

“Yes, well I don’t see why we waste any money on any of those troublemakers at all.� Uncle Vernon continued his rant, but Harry began once again to tune him out.

That explains the headache and the memory loss, he thought dully. He wondered briefly if his memory of the past several years would ever return, but it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway. Nothing worth remembering had ever happened to Harry Potter. He had lived the most boring and deprived life imaginable ever since his parents had been killed in that car crash all those years ago, and his situation showed no signs of improving any time soon.

After an excruciatingly long journey, during which Dudley decided to relieve his boredom by repeatedly hitting Harry in the upper arm and leaving a very nasty bruise, they arrived at their destination: a small seaside cottage that was not very far from Liverpool. As they unpacked the car and headed into the little two-story cottage, Harry could not help the feeling of excitement that bubbled up inside of him. Surely his aunt and uncle would have to allow him to stay in a real bedroom here. He might even have a window to look out of! As this wonderful thought struck his brain, he set off toward the stairs, only to be horrified at the sight of his uncle Vernon throwing a very old sleeping bag into the cupboard under the stairs, a nasty grin contorting his rotund face.

Harry angrily opened his mouth to protest, but bit back his exclamation just in time. It was nearly time for lunch, and his stomach was growling painfully. If he complained now, he could be sure of several more hours of hunger pains, and it just wasn’t worth it, especially when he knew he would never win the argument, anyway. Closing his mouth, he ducked into the cupboard to unroll his sleeping bag. Immediately, his nose was assaulted by the smell of dust mixed with mouse droppings, and his spirits sank even lower. This cupboard was even smaller than the one at number four, Privet Drive; there was only a small area near one end where Harry was able to stand up straight, and from the look of things, he would be lucky to be able to stretch out completely when lying down. He sighed as he heard his aunt call the family to the kitchen for lunch; at least he would finally be able to put something in his stomach.

Summer passed at an excruciatingly slow pace, and Harry’s memory did not return. He was forced to spend his days either holed up in his cupboard or out on the nearby beach, as Aunt Petunia did not seem able to stand the sight of him in the house. The only good thing about the situation was that the Dursleys were so immersed in their own leisure activities that they didn’t have much time to torment him. Harry, for his part, spent the majority of his time at a small beach near the cottage. The scenery really was beautiful if you took the time to notice it, but Harry usually didn’t. He was more interested in feeling sorry for himself for not having any friends to share his time with. This was the first odd thing that Harry noticed that summer - he seemed to subconsciously expect to have friends, even though he knew he had never had a friend in his life. After spending several long afternoons contemplating this as he sat on a rock and stared out at the crashing waves, he came to the conclusion that he must have at least one friend at school, since Dudley was no longer there to prevent it, and he began to eagerly look forward to the start of term so that he could find out who this friend was.

Dudley’s birthday arrived before long, and, as always, it was an excruciating affair. Harry was forced to watch as his cousin opened a mountain of presents and then ate an entire birthday cake by himself, but he excused himself from the festivities as soon as he was able, and nobody seemed to mind. Just over one month later, on Harry’s own sixteenth birthday, he noticed a second odd thing about himself: he was disappointed when no one acknowledged his birthday. He knew he shouldn’t be - after all, the Dursleys had never acknowledged his birthday in all the years he had lived with them - yet Harry still felt as though he should be receiving something on his special day, even if it was only a card in the mail.

August passed just as dully as June and July, and Harry could hardly contain his excitement over leaving the cottage by the sea. He eagerly anticipated sleeping in his own broken-down camp bed, rather than a musty old sleeping bag on a very dirty floor, but more than that, he couldn’t wait to go back to school and find out if he had any friends.


A/N: I hope you didn’t find this chapter too boring; it was necessary to set up the rest of the story. If it did bore you, please don’t give up on me yet - it only gets better.

---

Harry Potter awoke to the sound of pounding on his cupboard door.

“Boy!� Uncle Vernon’s voice resonated through the closed door. “Out of bed this instant! I won’t have you missing the bus to St. Brutus’s.�

“I’m up,� Harry mumbled as he rolled over and covered his head with his pillow. Although he wasn’t sure, he assumed St. Brutus’s must be the name of his school, since tomorrow was the start of term, but he wasn’t concerned with that right now. The dream he had just been having was hovering just at the edge of his consciousness, and he was struggling to hold onto it. Although he remembered nothing of the dream’s details, he was sure it had been a good one. Now, unfortunately, all he could remember was the face of a young girl. Her eyes were closed and she looked extremely pale, but just before Harry had awoken, she had opened her soft brown eyes. He was mesmerized by the memory of it, although he had no idea why. Maybe-

“Now!� Uncle Vernon thundered, flinging the cupboard door open and causing Harry to fall sideways out of bed, all thoughts of his dream now forgotten. After satisfying himself that his nephew was indeed out of bed, Uncle Vernon stormed off in the direction of the kitchen.

Harry fumbled around for a moment before he found his glasses, and then dressed quickly. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed two slices of toast before returning to his cupboard to “pack.� For Harry, packing consisted of throwing his toothbrush, an old pair of Dudley’s carpet slippers, and all of his clothes into a small schoolbag, as he owned little else. Once this task was accomplished and his toast eaten, he headed out the front door with his uncle.

The drive to the bus terminal was quiet and uneventful. As soon as Harry was buckled into the backseat (he was never allowed to ride up front, even on these rare occasions when he was alone in the car with his uncle), Uncle Vernon said, “In case you don’t remember, you’re going to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.�

After that, neither of them said a word. While he drove, Uncle Vernon glared straight ahead, as if wanting to make sure it was perfectly clear that he wanted nothing so much as to be rid of his nephew. Harry stared unseeing out of the window, wondering what St. Brutus’s would be like and if he would have any friends there. A few times, his thoughts returned to the girl from his dream the previous night, but he didn’t dwell on her for long. She was just a dream after all, and, even if she had been real, he couldn’t have met her at St. Brutus’s - it was, apparently, an institution for boys only.

They arrived at the bus terminal at half past nine, and Harry shouldered his schoolbag and was ushered into a queue of very rough-looking boys who were waiting to board a bus that was being watched over by a pair of armed guards. Harry eyed the other boys nervously as his uncle drove away. Were these really his classmates? Were they really the boys he lived with for nine months out of the year? No one had shown any sign of recognizing him; perhaps he really didn’t have any friends at school.

After only a few more minutes of waiting, the queue began to inch slowly forward. When Harry reached the front, one of the guards took his bag and rifled through it, searching for any evidence of weapons or other contraband. When he found nothing, he thrust the bag unceremoniously back into Harry’s arms and pushed him roughly toward the door of the bus. Harry hurried up the steps, tripping once in his haste, and gazed down the aisle between the seats, hoping against hope that someone would show some sign of recognition, perhaps even wave him over to sit with them. He was disappointed. Hanging his head, he walked slowly to an empty seat and began staring out the window.

After another half hour of waiting, Harry was pulled from his daze by the bus lurching forward. He glanced around to see that the seat next to him was one of only two empty seats.

Am I so terrible that they don’t even want to sit near me? he asked himself.

More likely it’s the opposite, answered a small voice inside his head. I don’t look nearly as tough as the rest of these blokes. They probably think sitting next to me would be a sign of weakness or something. He sighed and leaned his head against the window, allowing himself to drift off to sleep for the long trip to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Harry was back in the cottage by the sea with the Dursleys. He was lying on the floor when the cottage began to change around him. In less than a minute it had twisted and warped until, instead of the welcoming little home he remembered, it had become a filthy, run-down hovel. Suddenly, there was a great pounding noise and the front door came off its hinges, allowing a giant of a man to enter.

The front wheel of the bus hit a pothole in the road, and Harry was jerked awake, wondering why he had been having such a strange dream. The longer he was awake, the more the memory of the dream seemed to fade until, in an attempt to recall what the giant had looked like, he closed his eyes and drifted away once more.

Harry watched as a man he had never seen before slowly removed a turban from his head. When the man turned his back, Harry saw to his horror that a face seemed to be pushing its way out of the back of the man’s skull. This second face was hideous - it looked only marginally human - yet Harry found himself unable to run, or even to look away. The instant the hideous face was uncovered, the lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead burned white hot with a pain like nothing he had ever experienced.

Harry awoke on the bus once more, this time covered in cold sweat and clutching his head. Unlike the previous dream, he had no trouble at all recalling this one, no matter how hard he tried to force the memory of it from his mind. Every time he blinked, that hideous second face stared back at him and, even though he knew he must be imagining it, his scar prickled and itched as though the pain he had dreamed about had somehow been real.

Resolving to force himself to remain awake for the remainder of the journey in order to avoid having to see that hideous two-faced man again, Harry settled back into his seat and stared out the window. Mile after mile of identical landscape passed, interrupted only occasionally by seemingly lifeless little villages. Slowly, his eyelids began to droop until they closed completely and he was dreaming once again.

He recognized her in an instant - it was the same girl he had dreamed about the night before, but this time she was older, closer to his own age. Once again, all he could see was her face, but even so, she looked a good deal healthier this time around. She smiled broadly at him, her eyes alight with excitement, and he felt his pulse quicken. Why couldn’t he see more of her? How tall was this girl? He couldn’t even see her hair, for goodness’ sake! Yet somehow it didn’t matter all that much. Even if the girl turned out to be completely bald - which he very much doubted - she would still have those deep brown eyes that were so alive with excitement, and that smile that made him-

Harry swore under his breath as he was once again jarred awake, this time by the bus coming to an abrupt halt. Before he could stop himself, he lurched forward, hitting his head hard against the back of the seat in front of him. Several of the boys around him snickered as he rubbed his head where it had collided with the hard metal of the seat back. The boys at the front of the bus were beginning to disembark, but no one near Harry was moving, so he took the opportunity to look out the window at his new home. The sun was high in the sky, and the glare it provided glinted off of the stone and concrete structure ahead of him. It was no wonder St. Brutus’s appeared to house the worst of the worst; the older wing looked like a prison straight out of the Middle Ages. While the newer wing’s concrete seemed to be relatively solid, the stonework on the older portion of the building was crumbling badly. It would probably never be fixed, though - after all, who cared what kind of conditions this bunch of delinquents had to live in?

Before long, Harry was ushered along to the “dormitory� with the rest of the boys. The dormitory, it turned out, was located in the basement of the old wing of the school, in what had been a dungeon for prisoners centuries before. As he descended the dimly-lit stone staircase, Harry felt a looming sense of foreboding, but there was something else he felt as well. What was it? Something was sitting just on the edge of his consciousness, waiting for him to discover it, but he had absolutely no idea what it was. He glanced up and saw a rusty bracket hanging from the wall, a vestige left over from the days when the prison had been lit by torches. Something about the thought of torches jarred his mind just enough to remind him: he recognized the stone walls and floor. With a thrill of excitement, he waited for his memory to come pouring back. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Nevertheless, he was now certain that he had been here before, for he found he was already accustomed to the worn stone of the walls and floor.

Harry was one of the last to arrive in the dormitory, and so was left without a bed - apparently St. Brutus’s had more “incurably criminal boys� than beds. With a soft sigh, he sank down in an unoccupied corner of the room and leaned against the cold stone wall. He had to shift sideways a little to avoid leaning against a large iron ring that protruded from the stone - no doubt it had once been used to anchor some poor soul’s shackles in order to prevent him from escaping. The boys who had arrived early enough to claim the sparse beds had begun stretching out to rest, and a few were already snoring softly. Harry shivered slightly as he lay down on the cold, slightly damp stone floor, using his schoolbag for a pillow. No sooner had he closed his eyes than he was dreaming again.

He was running. Although he had no idea who or what he was running from, Harry was running as fast as he could, and he was terrified of slowing down and being caught. He flew down stone corridors, past endless flights of stairs, and through several doorways before realizing that he was not alone; two other boys and a girl were speeding along with him. Suddenly, they all skidded to a halt in front of a massive wooden door. They tried opening it, but it was locked. Footsteps began echoing down the corridor behind them; they were about to be caught! The girl pushed her way forward, her bushy hair hiding her face, and whispered the strange word, “Alohomora.� The lock clicked. They pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Harry was awakened by someone kicking his feet. He was really getting tired of being woken up every ten minutes.

“Lunch,� someone called, and sure enough, the room was rapidly emptying of its occupants. Harry left his bag in the corner and followed the others down a long corridor and up a flight of stairs into a large cafeteria in the newer portion of the building. Here, the walls were not made of stone, but of concrete, and they seemed strange and foreign to him. This was odd, he thought, because he had definitely felt that the older stone portion of the building was familiar. Perhaps he usually spent most of his time in the old section.

Harry wandered down the aisle between two of the tables, searching for a familiar face, but finally had to give up and sit down. He happened to sit next to a small boy about his own age that he had seen earlier in the dormitory, and who he had noticed did not have a bed either. The boy had light brown hair and beady black eyes that seemed to constantly dart about as he piled his plate high with an unappetizing-looking slop. Hungry though he was, Harry sincerely hoped that this would not be the typical meal around this place. He scooped a modest amount of pale goo onto his plate before turning to engage the small boy in conversation.

“Hi,� Harry said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster under the circumstances. “My name’s Harry.�

“Tyler,� the small boy responded with a nod as he took a very large bite of slop. “Tyler Stevens. You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.�

“Yeah,� Harry replied without thinking. “Er, I mean sort of. Not really, though.� Tyler looked at him quizzically for a moment before allowing his eyes to begin darting around the room once more. Harry quickly began to explain in a low voice. “What I mean is, no, I’m not new here - this is my sixth year at St. Brutus’s. The thing is, though, I can’t remember any of it.� Tyler raised an eyebrow. “They told me I got hit over the head during a fight at the end of last term,� Harry continued. “I can’t remember any of it, though. The last five years or so are just a blur for me; I can’t remember anything specific since before I started coming here.�

Tyler nodded his head as he chewed, seeming to contemplate this information. “Just between you and me,� he whispered, “you might not want to go spreading that around. There’s all sorts here, if you know what I mean, and if they think you’re vulnerable in any way, they’ll be all over you like buzzards. Me you got nothing to fear from, though - I’m just a pickpocket, and I can tell by looking at you that you’ve got nothing I want.�

“Thanks,� Harry said dryly.

“What’s your thing, anyway?� asked Tyler. Harry only gave him a confused look, so he tried again. “What’re you in here for? What’s your specialty, crime-wise?�

“I- Er- I haven’t got one,� Harry answered. Then, on further reflection, he quickly added, “Or if I do have some sort of specialty, I can’t remember what it is.�

Tyler thought about this for a moment. “I’d keep that quiet too,� he said at last. “The larger blokes-� he nodded toward a table full of rowdy boys who were all nearly as large as Dudley, “-are pretty much all in here for violence of one sort or another, so you may want to steer clear of them, although there are plenty of smaller ones who’d surprise you with how well they fight.�

“Thanks,� Harry said as he struggled to swallow another bite of slop. “I’ll try and remember that.�

“Especially watch out for Big Tom and his gang,� Tyler added, nodding toward a particularly large and mean-looking boy. Big Tom was tall, and extremely wide and muscular, and he wore his sandy blond hair cropped close to his head. Unlike Dudley, however, Tom had an intangible hardness to him that Harry’s cousin had tried, but never quite managed, to capture.

“They’re the toughest ones around,� Tyler continued, his tone indicating a mixture of awe and distaste. “The tall, skinny one with short brown hair is Robert Lyon. He doesn’t say much, but I heard he’s killed two people in knife fights. The only reason he’s not in prison is because they couldn’t find any witnesses and he’s underage.

“Next to him is Leland Nash.� Harry glanced over and saw a boy who was almost as large as Big Tom. His shaved head only added to an already menacing appearance. “He’s usually the first to start a fight - it doesn’t take much to set him off - and he grew up on the streets, so he knows how to handle himself.

“Across from him is Todd Wilkins, the stocky one with the spiky black hair. He’s not quite as big, but he’s a natural fighter. The last one is Lloyd Hodges.� Hodges was about average size, making him the smallest in the gang, and his long black hair fell down into his eyes to give him a lazy sort of appearance. “He comes from a good upper-class family, from what I hear, but his sticky fingers landed him in here. His parents got him kickboxing lessons when he was younger, before they figured out what he was really like. I wouldn’t want to be caught going up against any one of them.�

Still looking at the gang, Harry thought he couldn’t agree more. If he had ever been frightened of Dudley and his little gang, it was only because he had never met anyone like the boys at St. Brutus’s.

“So, where’s your gang?� Harry asked after a moment.

“My gang?� Tyler asked with a laugh. “Haven’t got one. Truth is, all my mates left after last year. Two of them came of age and got to leave, and another got sent away to a youth prison for hitting somebody over the head with a brick. The bloke had it coming, mind, but still.... That’s not much of a defense in court, is it?�

“I guess not,� Harry agreed. “Are you finished?� He had already swallowed as much of the “supper� as he could stomach, and was anxious to get away from the smell of the stuff.

“Yeah,� said Tyler. “Let’s get out of here.�

A moment later, Harry was following Tyler toward the kitchen to drop off their dirty dishes. “So how come you kept picking pockets until they sent you here?� he finally asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“Had to eat, didn’t I?� asked Tyler without looking back. “We never had nothin’, even when Mum and Dad were still around. Things just got worse after they died, though, and I had to steal to keep alive. I got pretty good at it, but nobody’s so good they never get caught. Eventually, they hauled me in so many times that the magistrate decided to send me here.� He shrugged. “At least here they give you food, even if it is rubbish.�

Harry followed him out of the cafeteria before saying in a very soft voice, “I’m an orphan too. How old were you when it happened?�

“Eight,� Tyler said without looking at Harry. “You?�

“Just over a year. I don’t even remember them.�

“You grew up in an orphanage, then?� asked Tyler.

“No, with my aunt and uncle, although an orphanage would probably have been more pleasant. They absolutely hate me; keep me locked up in a cupboard like some sort of freak, that sort of rubbish. An orphanage could only be an improvement.�

The rest of the day was spent in various orientation meetings with staff members, most of whom were so large and muscular that they looked like they could pick up Uncle Vernon in one hand and Dudley in the other. The meetings were exceptionally dull, as it seemed that the point of each was to reiterate an interminable list of rules. By the end of the day, all Harry had absorbed was that it seemed they were not allowed to do anything without explicit permission.

That night, as he lay on the stone floor that was to be his bed for the next several months, Harry allowed his thoughts to wander over the day’s events. So far, nothing but the stone walls and floors had triggered any sort of memories at all, and no one had shown any signs of recognizing him. For what seemed to be the millionth time, he tried to force himself to remember something - anything - that had happened in the years he had spent at St. Brutus’s, but the result was still the same: a blur and a headache.

* * * * *
The first real day of classes began with a flurry of activity. A hurried breakfast was followed by a near-sprint to the first class of the day. The instructor was a burly woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Her light brown hair was beginning to be streaked with gray, but that didn’t make her look any less formidable.

“My name is Madam Davies,� she began. “I will be your Literature instructor this year. As the staff no doubt explained to you yesterday, no fighting of any kind will be permitted in this institution. However, just to be safe, I’ve decided not to use a traditional pointer to call your attention to the blackboard. Instead, I will use this.� She withdrew a long aluminum baseball bat from behind her desk and tapped it loudly against the blackboard. Madam Davies’ unspoken message couldn’t have been clearer: the bat had nothing to do with either the blackboard or America’s pastime.

“Is she serious?� Harry whispered, leaning slightly toward Tyler, who was seated next to him.

Tyler responded with a slight nod of the head. His face was grim, and for the first time since Harry had met him, his eyes were not darting about; they were focused intently on Madam Davies. Noting this behavior, Harry realized that Tyler must consider her to be the biggest threat in the room, and decided he had no choice but to believe his new friend. He would have to be very careful not to get on Madam Davies’ bad side.

The first forty minutes of class went as well as could be expected. Madam Davies lectured on famous English literature, emphasizing the differences in style of several authors, playwrights, and poets, as well as mentioning a few anonymous works. The class remained relatively quiet and, although Todd Wilkins, a member of Big Tom’s gang, did his best to mock the instructor when called upon to answer a question, most of the class was surprisingly respectful. Harry decided that the baseball bat probably had something to do with the level of respect Madam Davies was enjoying.

It wasn’t until class was nearly over that Harry was called upon to answer a question. Madam Davies had told them to open their Literature textbooks to page 247, which was the beginning of a section on the Legends of Camelot. Harry examined the illustration with interest, especially the tall, thin man with long, white hair and beard, who was standing serenely next to a young king. The old man wore a long robe and a pointed hat, both of which were midnight blue and decorated with yellow moons and stars. There was something strangely familiar about the man, and Harry got the odd impression that he knew someone like him in real life.

“Mister Potter,� Madam Davies began, forcing him to abandon his attempt to remember who the old man in the picture reminded him of. She spoke in an even-toned voice that must have taken her years to perfect. “Please give us the name and a short description of the central figure in the Legends of Camelot.�

“Merlin,� Harry responded automatically. That was the old man’s name! More information about him flowed into Harry’s mind, and he continued speaking. “He was one of the most powerful wizards of all time, and he did his best to help wizards and, er, regular people live together in peace. I think he was part of the king’s court at one point too, but I forget.� He had no idea how he had known that answer, but he did. As soon as the question had left Madam Davies’ lips, the words had just poured into his mind. He looked up to give the instructor a satisfied smile, but quickly discovered that she was not smiling back at him.

“Think you’re funny, do you?� she snapped. Her practiced even tones had suddenly been replaced by a harsh, angry voice. Harry’s head swiveled from side to side. Several of his classmates were snickering behind their hands; a few of the more brazen boys were laughing openly. Most of the smaller boys simply stared at him in shocked disbelief, as if he had just said something extremely offensive.

“Er- no, Ma’am,� Harry stammered. “I- I really thought- wasn’t that the right answer?� Madam Davies’ face was slowly turning a pale shade of purple that Harry usually associated with his Uncle Vernon. It was amazing that someone who angered so easily was able to survive working in a place like this. He eyed the baseball bat nervously as she clenched and unclenched her hands around the handle. She was standing directly in front of him now; if she decided to swing, there would be no time to dodge the blow, and she looked strong enough to completely remove his head from the rest of his body if she wanted to.

“Detention, Potter,� Madam Davies hissed at last. “My office, five o’clock. You will not be eating supper tonight.�

Harry stared at her in disbelief, but said nothing - after all, he was in no position to argue. He couldn’t understand it; he had been so sure of the answer to that question that for a moment he had thought it was something he had learned at some point during the years he had forgotten. Now, he wasn’t sure where the information had come from.

As soon as class let out, Tyler pulled Harry aside in the corridor. “What did you think you were doing in there?� he demanded, his beady eyes darting about like those of a rodent in search of predators. “If you don’t know the answer, just say so! Making up rubbish only makes it worse, especially with Davies. You should know that.� Harry gave him a pointed look. “Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot. You don’t remember any of that. But where did that answer come from, Harry? It sounded like you knew the right answer, but you were just trying to get on her nerves or something.�

“But I wasn’t,� Harry insisted. “Honestly, I thought that was the right answer. It just popped into my head, so I figured it was something I had learned last year but forgot when I got hit over the head.�

Tyler shook his head in disbelief. “The main character in Camelot was King Arthur, Harry. Merlin was a wizard, or a fortune teller, or something, but he was just a minor player in the king’s court. Even I know that.�

The conversation ended abruptly as they reached their next classroom and silently took their seats. It was going to be a long day.

* * * * *
Harry reported to his detention with Madam Davies promptly at five o’clock; he had no intention of angering her further. Without a word, she picked up a dented metal pail that was half-filled with soapy water, and motioned for him to follow her. They walked in silence through the stone corridors and into a room with a red cross painted on the door. Harry guessed that it must be the infirmary. Once inside, she set the bucket on the floor and turned to face him.

“For your detention, you will wash the floor of the infirmary,� Madam Davies said in her practiced even tone.

Glancing around, Harry couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t seem like too bad of a job, all things considered. The room stank like vomit, but it wasn’t much larger than Aunt Petunia’s kitchen and dining room, which he had mopped countless times in his life. There was only room for a pair of beds, a large wooden desk with matching chair, and a row of filing cabinets.

“Be sure not to miss anything beside the beds,� Madam Davis added. Her voice remained even, but there was something malicious in her eyes that made Harry nervous. Taking a step further into the room, he could see a pool of dark liquid on the floor in between the two beds. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he knew: it was blood. Two steps further and he could see that the floor between the far bed and the wall was covered in vomit.

That explains the smell, he thought.

Madam Davis turned to leave, but Harry called after her before she could make it out the door.

“Wait! You haven’t left me a mop,� he said, a little more aggressively than he had intended. It was one thing to have to mop the floor; cleaning up someone else’s bodily fluids was an entirely different matter.

Madam Davis turned just far enough to give him a contemptuous glare. “It’s in the pail,� she said coldly, and quickly exited the room before Harry was able to point out that there was, in fact, no mop in the pail of soapy water. He rushed over to the door, intent on chasing her down if necessary, but was stopped abruptly when he found he was unable to turn the knob on the heavy steel door. She had locked him in.

After kicking the door in frustration, which served only to give him a sore toe, he grudgingly turned to the dented pail.

“Now what am I supposed to do?� Harry asked himself aloud. His voice sounded hollow as it echoed off the stone walls. And then he saw it: there was something in the bottom of the pail, nearly hidden by the large suds that floated on top of the water. Instinctively, he reached in and closed his fingers around the thin, red handle. As he caught sight of what he was holding, he let out a frustrated growl. It was a toothbrush.

---

A/N: I really did have a teacher in high school who kept a baseball bat behind her desk because she claimed to be afraid that a fight would break out in her classroom. She had much less reason to worry than Madam Davies does, of course, but I couldn’t resist using that bit in the story. Oh, and the bat is about the only thing my old teacher and Madam Davies have in common. :)

---

After spending the entire night on his hands and knees, scrubbing vomit and blood off of a stone floor with nothing but a toothbrush and a pail of soapy water, Harry was near the point of collapse. His knees and back ached from hunching over on the hard floor, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open. Finally, just before classes were to begin, Madam Davies arrived to unlock the door to the infirmary. Without commenting on his work, she simply glanced around at the floor to make sure he had succeeded in cleaning up the mess, and sent him to class. Breakfast was already over, and there wasn’t even time to have a quick shower or change clothes. Harry arrived in History class with the knees of his trousers soaked in soapy water, and the stench of vomit lingering in his clothes and hair.

The second day of classes seemed to go by even slower than the first, but Harry managed to get through it without earning another detention by keeping his head down and his mouth shut. It wasn’t really difficult; he had only to act as though he was trying to avoid the wrath of his Uncle Vernon. It wasn’t until after supper that he was finally able to change out of his filthy clothes and have a shower. Then, as soon as he was dressed in his pajamas, he lay down on the floor to get some sleep for the first time in almost forty hours.

According to his recent pattern, Harry began dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep. It was odd, really, as he didn’t think he had dreamed much before losing his memory. Then again, there was really no way to know for sure. On some nights - especially those when he dreamed of the girl’s smiling face - he felt like he would be glad to go on dreaming forever. Tonight was not one of those nights.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in the middle of a very dense, very foggy forest. He looked around, trying to figure out how he had gotten there, but found he was unable to see more than a few feet in any direction.

“Hello?� he called. “Is anybody there?�

For a long moment the forest was silent, the muffled echo of his voice hanging in the air. Then he heard it: a long, gasping breath that sent terrified chills down his spine. Harry didn’t quite understand why he found the sound so frightening, nor did he understand why he suddenly found himself pointing a polished wooden stick in the direction from whence the sound had come, but something deep inside him knew that he was in danger.

He continued squinting into the murky darkness until a slight movement to his left drew his attention. A dark shape, like a tall, hooded phantom, was slowly approaching. There was no sound but the ragged breathing, not even the crunch of dead leaves or the snapping of twigs. It was as though the stranger was gliding forward, rather than walking. Harry felt his knees go weak. He had to fight, but he didn’t know how to do it with this feeling of utter despair welling up inside of him. The stick fell from his grasp as he caught his hands on his knees in an attempt to remain upright. The thing - for he knew now that it could not be human - came closer, and a ringing began in Harry’s ears. As he sank to his knees, the ringing had to compete with another sound: a woman’s voice was screaming. No, she was pleading with someone.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!�

The ringing grew louder until the woman’s voice was drowned out completely. Harry’s eyes were closed now, but he didn’t care. The horrid black phantom would kill him, and then he would be free of this nightmare. Suddenly, the ringing in his ears stopped, the woman screamed, and he saw a brilliant flash of green light through his eyelids. Cold, high-pitched laughter filled his ears.

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he found himself lying on the floor of his dormitory with his blanket twisted around his legs. As he struggled to calm his heavy breathing, he had to wipe away the cold sweat that was beginning to sting his eyes.

It was only a dream, he repeated over and over in his mind. A dream.

After what seemed like hours, but really couldn’t have been more than about fifteen minutes, he decided to try sleeping again, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the figure in the black hood gliding toward him, and his ears filled with the sound of the woman’s scream. Harry had never put much stock in interpreting dreams - that was one of the few things he had in common with his uncle - and he found himself fervently hoping that dreams really were nothing more than random impulses in the brain, rather than visions of the future, as the “psychics� on television liked to suggest.

Exhausted but unable to sleep, he finally decided to go for a walk to try and clear his head. It probably wasn’t a good idea, since students (or inmates, as they sometimes called themselves) weren’t allowed to roam the corridors at night, but he had to do something to take his mind off of that creature in the black hood. As quietly as he could manage, he stood up and put on his dressing gown and a tattered old pair of Dudley’s carpet slippers, and tiptoed from the room. He started out in the direction of the bathroom, just in case anyone else was awake enough to see him leave, but as soon as he was out of sight of the dormitory he doubled back, staying in the shadows, until he was able to make his way up the stairs and out into the fresh night air.

Only a sliver of moon was out, but it was enough to illuminate the miniature prison that was St. Brutus’s. A high wall, built of smooth stone and brick, surrounded the buildings, forming a sort of courtyard, and the top of the wall was covered in broken glass, metal spikes, and dangerous-looking loops of barbed wire. The few trees within the enclosure stood well away from the wall, no doubt to ensure that it would be impossible to escape by climbing a tree and jumping over the wall. Harry breathed deeply and walked to the nearest tree, resting his hands and forehead against the smooth bark.

Suddenly, there was a great flapping sound from overhead and Harry, immediately thinking of bats, ducked, looking up and shielding his face with his arms. He needn’t have worried about bats, however, for it was immediately apparent that what he had heard was a large, white owl that had left its perch in the tree and circled down to Harry’s level. The owl beat its wings, slowing its approach, and Harry instinctively held out his left arm. The owl landed, its sudden weight nearly tipping Harry over, but it was very careful not to sink its talons into his arm through the thin fabric of the dressing gown and pajamas.

“Hey there,� Harry said in a soft, astonished voice.

The owl looked up at him, and as it stared into his eyes, he had the strange feeling that this owl knew more about him than he did.

“You’re awfully tame, aren’t you?� Harry continued as he began stroking the owl’s feathers with his right hand. “Where did you come from? Are you somebody’s pet?�

The owl hooted softly and cocked its head to the side as though surprised or confused by these questions. But then, it was just an owl; it couldn’t really understand what he was saying anyway, right?

“Harry, what’re you doing?� The urgent whisper came from behind him, and he spun around so quickly that he nearly toppled the large bird. It was Tyler.

“Couldn’t sleep,� Harry replied. “What are you doing up?�

“I saw you sneaking out and I came to talk some sense into you,� Tyler hissed. As usual, his small eyes were darting back and forth through the shadows in search of some imagined danger. “You’ll be in loads of trouble if you get caught.�

“Then we’ll just have to make sure we don’t get caught,� Harry said reasonably. “Did you see this owl?�

“Yeah,� Tyler whispered. Now that he had voiced his concerns about breaking curfew, he seemed to be in less of a hurry to get back to the dormitory. He examined the bird closely. “He’s really tame, isn’t he? What’s your name, boy?� Tyler reached out a finger to stroke the owl’s head, but it ruffled up its feathers and snapped at him with its sharp beak.

“Hey!� Tyler yelped, then immediately looked around in alarm, as though he expected his exclamation to call forth a pack of attack dogs.

Harry laughed. “Maybe it’s a she,� he said. “Is that it?� The owl nuzzled his hand affectionately. “Sorry Tyler offended you, girl,� he said in a soothing voice. “He just didn’t know any better.�

Tyler watched the exchange in amazement. “Blimey, Harry, she really seems like she can understand you, doesn’t she? That’s one smart bird. Where’d she come from?�

Harry shrugged. “She was up in the tree when I came outside. Then she just flew down and perched herself on my arm.�

“Hang on a minute,� said Tyler with barely suppressed excitement. “Maybe she was your pet before and that’s why she came to you. Only you can’t remember, obviously.�

Harry thought about the suggestion. It did seem to make sense, especially with the way he and the owl seemed to already know and understand one another. If it was true, though, she must stay at St. Brutus’s year-round, as he was quite sure that his uncle would never allow a pet owl on Privet Drive. Perhaps that was why she seemed to be waiting for him. Slowly, he began to nod.

“It makes sense,� continued Tyler. “Hey, what’re you going to call her?�

“What? Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it.� Harry looked at the owl before continuing, “I suppose you do need a name, don’t you? I wish I could just ask you your name, but something tells me that wouldn’t work too well. How about I give you a new name for now, and if I ever get my memory back, you can pick which one you like best?�

The owl nipped affectionately at Harry’s fingers in a manner that he understood very clearly to mean that she agreed.

“How about Snowy, then?� he asked. “After all, you are a snowy owl. I know it’s not very original, but I’ve never been very good at coming up with creative names.�

The owl hooted her assent, and then held out a leg toward Harry, balancing on her other foot.

“What’s she doing?� Tyler asked.

“I’m not sure,� said Harry. “Is something the matter with your foot, girl?� He examined the outstretched foot and leg, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong.

“What’s the matter, Snowy?� Harry asked again.

Snowy gave an exasperated hoot, beat her wings in what looked suspiciously like a shrug, and flew back up to a low branch.

“We’d probably better get back,� said Tyler. Now that Snowy had left her perch on Harry’s arm, Tyler was becoming restless once again.

“I guess you’re right,� Harry admitted. As they headed back toward the building, he glanced back over his shoulder and softly called, “Goodnight, Snowy.� She hooted a reply just before they were out of hearing.

No sooner had Harry and Tyler re-entered the building and headed for the staircase, than they heard rapid footsteps ascending from the lower floor. A silent glance and a nod were all they needed to agree that the corridor to their right would be the best place to hide from a patrolling staff member. They darted down the corridor, thankful for the soft carpet slippers that helped muffle their footsteps. The loud clicking of hard-soled shoes on the stone floor turned down the dark corridor to follow them. Harry jerked Tyler by the arm, dragging him into a side passage with a door at the end. He tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn.

“It’s locked,� he whispered, his fear of being caught evident in his voice. The footsteps were growing closer, and now they could see the beam of a flashlight cutting across the entrance to their hiding place. It was too late to run for it.

“I’ll try and pick it,� Tyler responded in a panicked whisper. He removed a wire paperclip from the hem of his pajamas and bent down to find the keyhole in the darkness. After only a second, he groaned.

“It’s no good,� Tyler whispered. “This must be the back door to an office - there’s no keyhole on this side.�

“What?� Harry had to try very hard to keep himself from shouting in frustration. As he placed his hand back on the knob, an image from one of his dreams flashed before his eyes. In the dream, he had been standing in front of a locked door, much the same way he was now. But in the dream, there had been a girl. She had whispered something that made the door open - some sort of a password or something - but what was it? Even as the insanity of a whispered password opening a locked door crossed his mind, he remembered what the girl had said. Without bothering to think any more about it, he hissed, “Alohomora!� To his utter amazement, there was a soft click, and the knob suddenly turned in his hand. He pushed the door open and dragged Tyler into the dark room beyond before closing the door again as quickly and quietly as he could.

There were apparently no windows in the room they had chosen for their hiding place, because Harry was unable to see anything other than a small sliver of light coming from under the door. The clicking footsteps turned down the narrow passageway that led to the room where he and Tyler were hiding and, with a thrill or horror, Harry realized that the door was still unlocked. Before he had time to react, however, Tyler had pushed past him and pressed the button in the center of the doorknob, securing it from the inside once again.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Harry and Tyler held their breath as they heard the person outside jiggle the knob to verify that it was still locked. As the clicking footsteps receded, both boys let out sighs of relief. After a long moment, Tyler opened the door a crack. There was no one around. Harry followed him out of the windowless room, and was careful to press the button on the inside of the doorknob so that it would remain locked. He was about to head back to the main corridor when Tyler caught him by the arm.

“How’d you do that, Harry?� Tyler whispered.

“How’d I do what?� Harry asked.

“Don’t play dumb, mate. We both know that door was locked. Then you whispered something, and it came open. What’s going on?�

“I don’t know,� Harry said truthfully. Tyler raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing, so Harry continued, “Look, I had this dream, okay? I was about to be caught late at night - just like tonight - and I ended up outside a locked door. Then this girl came from behind me and whispered, ‘Alohomora,’ and the door opened. I guess I just panicked because I tried it even though I know it’s insane to think something like that could open a lock.�

“But it worked,� said Tyler. “Alohomora, was it?� Harry nodded. Tyler placed his hand on the doorknob to verify that it was still locked, and whispered, “Alohomora.� Nothing happened.

“Like I said,� Harry whispered, “it’s not as if something like that could actually work. The lock probably wasn’t thrown properly, and I just jiggled it free or something.� Even though this explanation did seem to make sense, Harry couldn’t help noticing the incredulity in his own voice, and he was sure Tyler had noticed it too.

“Try it again, then,� suggested Tyler. “Just to see if it really works, I mean.�

Hesitantly, Harry placed his hand on the doorknob. He tried to turn it, but it was still locked. After a short pause, he quietly muttered, “Alohomora.� There was a soft click, and the knob turned.

“Wicked!� whispered Tyler. “That’s magic, that is. Hey Harry, maybe you were into witchcraft before you lost you memory.�

Harry thought for a moment as he re-locked the door. “I doubt it,� he answered finally. “It just doesn’t sound like me - casting spells and riding around on broomsticks. Besides, magic’s not even real. Even all the great magicians say their tricks are just illusions, not really magic at all.�

“Suit yourself, mate,� Tyler replied as they started back down the corridor, “but I know what I just saw, and if that wasn’t real magic, I don’t know what is.�

They walked on in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, until they reached the dormitory. After a whispered goodnight, they both lay down. The images of the black-hooded demons had faded from Harry’s mind, but now he had something infinitely more real to think about. Tyler’s explanation of what had happened seemed extremely farfetched, yet what other explanation was there? For the rest of the night, Harry’s sleep was plagued with dreams that kept switching between him being chased by a heat-seeking missile while flying through the air on a broomstick, and a sallow-faced man with greasy black hair and a black robe glaring at him over a bubbling cauldron.

---

A/N: I realize that Harry ought to need a wand in order to do this sort of magic. Fear not: all will be explained near the end of the story. For now, just think of it as one of the reasons this is in the Mystery category.

Also, I’m going to get really sick of using the name Snowy for Hedwig, but I’m afraid I don’t have much choice until somebody tells Harry her real name.

After the first week, everything at St. Brutus’s seemed to settle into a regular routine. Harry, to his surprise, discovered that he was woefully behind most of his classmates, and was immediately determined to catch up. However, before long, the apathy that everyone else seemed to feel toward school began to rub off on him, and soon he was sliding by with the least possible amount of work. At times, this apathy seemed to extend even to the staff, and soon it was widely known that late-night patrolling of the corridors had virtually ceased.

After the insanity of the first week, classes began slowing down as well. From the second week onward, they were allowed a few free hours outdoors each day, with the condition that they not cause any trouble. Harry enjoyed the free time immensely, especially since it gave him and Tyler a chance to play with Snowy, the owl.

It was October before Harry found himself in trouble again. He had snuck out after hours to have a quick visit with Snowy, when he heard snickering voices from back inside the building, along with whispered pleas for mercy. Harry silently made his way back to the front door and listened.

“It wasn’t me, I swear!� The pleading voice was nearly frantic, but that only made the others laugh more. “Please!�

Unable to stand it any longer, Harry shoved open the front door. He had expected to find a couple of large boys picking on a smaller one, perhaps an eleven or twelve-year-old. What he did not expect to find was Tyler Stevens backed into a corner, his eye swollen and his lip bloody, and no less than five boys who were much larger than him standing around, making sure he didn’t escape. Everyone turned to stare at Harry, but he didn’t care. He ran to his friend, glaring at the larger boys, and he was standing next to Tyler before he realized that now he was cornered too.

“Looks like we’ve got a bonus, boys,� sneered the closest and largest of the bullies. “Welcome to the party, Potter.�

Harry glared at him. This was the boy known simply as Big Tom, the ringleader of this little gang. Harry couldn’t recall ever having heard his last name, but the name Big Tom seemed a perfect match for the hulking young man in front of him. As always, looking at Big Tom reminded Harry irresistibly of a hardened-criminal version of his cousin, Dudley.

As he looked around at the other faces, Harry’s unease deepened. To his left stood Robert Lyon, a tall, sinewy boy with very short brown hair. Lyon didn’t say much, but he carried himself with such arrogance that it really didn’t matter. As Harry remembered Tyler telling him that Lyon was rumored to have killed two people in knife fights, his stomach clenched.

Next to Lyon stood the stocky Todd Wilkins. Wilkins had grown up on the street, much like Tyler, but his natural ability as a fighter had turned him to violence at an early age. Lloyd Hodges and Leland Nash were also present, meaning that Big Tom’s entire gang was in attendance. Hodges was about average size, making him the smallest in the gang, but what he lacked in size, he made up for with his expert kickboxing. He liked to maintain a lazy appearance, letting his black hair grow so long that it fell into his eyes, but it was all an act; he was always on alert, as Harry had learned when he’d watched Hodges mop the floor with a twelve-year-old who had been foolish enough to try picking his pocket in the third week of school. The fifth member of the gang, Nash, was almost as large as Big Tom himself, and his shaved head gave him a sinister sort of look. Harry quickly found himself wishing that he could trade this group for Dudley, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon.

Something in Big Tom’s hand moved slightly, and Harry instantly knew what Tyler had been pleading for the others not to do. Tom was holding a snake just behind the head, and every now and again, it twisted and snapped its jaws, revealing long white fangs. It wasn’t a very big snake - it couldn’t have been much more than two feet long - but there was no mistaking that it was venomous. Harry froze, mesmerized by the lidless black eyes, and the pattern of black crosses running the length of its rusty brown back.

Big Tom seemed to be enjoying Harry’s reaction. “We caught it out by the wall earlier today,� he said. “Now it looks like it’ll get two victims tonight.�

“They think I overheard something I shouldn’t have,� Tyler said, his voice full of panic. “But I didn’t! I swear!�

Big Tom clicked his tongue like a parent might do when chiding a small child. “Now, now, Stevens, you should know better than to lie to me.� His voice was quiet and deadly calm.

“At least let Harry go, then,� Tyler said. “He’s not involved in any of this.�

Big Tom laughed. “Let the witness go? You really don’t understand the meaning of ‘incurably criminal,’ do you Stevens? No, Lightning Bolt Potter isn’t going anywhere.�

At the reference to his lightning bolt-shaped scar, Harry’s hand unconsciously went to his forehead. Tom’s gang laughed.

“Alright now,� Tom whispered, looking down at the snake and almost lovingly stroking the scales on its belly, “go have your fun!� He tossed the snake forward onto the stone floor in front of Harry and Tyler, and then quickly backed away. The snake looked at the two boys in the corner and began slithering toward them with a menacing gleam in its unblinking eyes.

“What are you coming after us for?� Harry demanded. He knew it was no use, but there was nothing else he could do. “We haven’t done anything to you.�

“Oy, Potter!� called Wilkins. “Trying to talk to it’s not going to help!� Tom’s gang snickered, and the snake continued its deliberate approach.

Ignoring the taunt, Harry shouted at the snake, “If you’re so keen to bite someone, why don’t you go bite the person that caught you?� He pointed at Big Tom.

The snake stopped. Slowly, it twisted around and glared directly at Tom. Then it began slithering rapidly toward him. After only a moment’s hesitation, Big Tom turned and ran, followed closely by his friends.

“Wait!� Harry called. The snake stopped again and turned to look at him. Could it be possible that the snake understood him? “I didn’t really mean for you to bite him. Please,� he continued in a somewhat calmer voice, “we haven’t done anything to you. Please don’t attack us.�

The snake hissed at him, but within the hissing sound, he heard words. “I wouldn’t dream of biting you,� said the snake. “It’s not often that one meets a decent Parselmouth.�

“A Parselmouth?� Harry asked. The strange word echoed in his mind - he was sure he had heard it before, but he couldn’t place when or where.

“A human who can speak in the language of serpents,� the snake explained. “They’re not very common, as I’m sure you know, and to meet one who looks out for his friends as you just did.... It’s practically unheard of.�

“Er, right,� said Harry. Now that the danger seemed to have passed, he was keen to get Tyler back to the dormitory before any more trouble found them. “Would you mind promising not to bite my friend here, either?� he asked.

“Whatever you like,� said the snake. “Humans are much too large for an adder like me, anyway. I eat mostly rats; there are plenty of them around, you know.�

Harry nodded; he had seen and heard a large number of rats roaming the school at night, and sometimes even during the day. “Well, we’ll just be going then,� he said at last.

The snake nodded its head, and Harry began leading Tyler back toward the dormitories. As they passed the snake, Harry looked down and asked, “By the way, what’s your name?�

“Hassseth,� the snake replied.

“I’m Harry,� said Harry. “Harry Potter.�

“Pleased to meet you, Harry Potter,� hissed Hassseth.

As they rounded a corner and headed for the staircase, Harry realized for the first time that Tyler was staring straight ahead without blinking, and his hands were shaking violently.

“Tyler!� he whispered, gently shaking his friend. “Tyler, what’s wrong?�

Tyler blinked and shook himself as if awaking from a daydream. He looked sideways at Harry before asking, “What was all that hissing about?�

“What hissing?� Harry asked. “You mean the snake?�

“I mean you! What was with all those hissing and spitting noises you were making? At first it just seemed ridiculous, but then it looked like you were actually talking to the snake and it was obeying you.�

“But I was speaking English,� Harry insisted. “You must have heard me. I just told the snake that if he wanted to bite somebody, he should bite Big Tom since he was the one who caught him. Then-�

“Her,� interrupted Tyler.

“What?� Harry asked.

“The one who caught her. That snake was female, you can tell by the markings. She’s a European adder, the only venomous snake that’s native to England.�

“Yeah,� Harry said, “She called herself an adder, but I didn’t know what it meant. Are adders very dangerous?�

“Not to most people,� Tyler answered. “Their poison is about as strong as a rattlesnake’s, but they don’t inject very much when they bite. It’s usually sort of like a bad bee sting.�

“A bee sting?� Harry asked doubtfully. “Then why were you acting so terrified?�

“I’m allergic,� Tyler said with a shrug. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, though. I mean, you were talking to that snake. In its own language!�

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you, I was speaking English. She was too, for that matter.�

“All I heard was hissing and spitting,� Tyler insisted. “So, what else did you tell her?�

“Well, when she went after Tom, I told her to stop, that I hadn’t really meant she should bite him. Then she called me a Parselmouth, which is apparently what snakes call people who can speak their language, and promised not to bite us. As we were leaving, I asked her name, and she told me it was Hassseth.�

“There!� Tyler exclaimed.

“What?� asked Harry, confused.

“That name. When you said the snake’s name, you did it in that hissing sort of voice from before.�

“I did?� Harry was amazed.

“Say it again, only listen to yourself when you say it this time,� Tyler instructed.

“Hassseth,� said Harry. This time, as he said the name, he heard a strange hissing sound along with his own voice - that must have been all Tyler was able to hear!�

“You called?� came a small hissing voice from near Harry’s right slipper. He looked down and was not surprised to find Hassseth coiled near his foot.

“Sorry,� Harry said. “I didn’t mean to call you, I was just trying to tell Tyler your name, but every time I tried, it came out in your language instead of mine.�

Hassseth nodded her small head. “The names of serpents can only be spoken in the tongue of serpents,� she said sagely.

“Where are you headed?� Harry asked. “It’s dangerous for you to be here inside the school.�

“I live inside the school,� Hassseth replied. “There is a small cavity in the wall of the room where you sleep. I bother no one, and they don’t know I’m there. Anyway, it’s nearly winter, and I need to catch a nice, fat rat so I can hibernate for a few months.�

“Would you like a ride?� Harry found himself asking. He couldn’t believe it, but he was actually offering to pick up a venomous snake. Hassseth nodded her assent, and Harry gently lifted her in his right hand. As she wound her body around his arm for balance, Tyler shrank back a few steps.

“It’s all right, Tyler,� Harry said with a reassuring smile. “She lives inside the wall of the dormitory, and she’s never bothered us before. Besides, she promised not to bite either one of us.�

Tyler nodded, but he still kept his distance as they returned to the dormitory. After Hassseth had disappeared into a crack in the wall, he turned to Harry and whispered, “I’ll never be able to sleep in here again, knowing that snake’s inside the wall.�

“Why not?� Harry asked. “I thought she was kind of nice. And anyway, at least now you don’t have to worry about her biting you, do you? Besides, she’ll be hibernating soon; I’ll bet you won’t ever see her again.�

Tyler shook his head in a way that Harry understood to mean that no amount of reassuring was going to change his mind.

---

For two days, Big Tom and his gang of followers kept their distance from Harry and Tyler. Frightened by Harry’s apparent ability to command the small viper, and humiliated by that fear, they were loath to give him an opportunity to embarrass them in front of anyone. On the third afternoon following their late-night encounter, however, their courage returned.

Harry was outside visiting with Snowy the owl in a secluded corner of the yard, when she gave him a sudden look of alarm and took flight. Harry looked over his shoulder to see what had startled her. He immediately regretted that action, because a large rock smashed into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground. He tried groggily to get to his feet, but another rock hit him in the back. He rolled on the ground, trying to avoid getting hit again while he scrambled to see where the sudden attack was coming from. A scream came from his right, and he looked just in time to see Snowy soaring up and away from Big Tom, who was sporting a nasty gash on his cheek, no doubt caused by the owl’s sharp talons. Tom launched his next rock at the large bird, but she avoided it with such ease that she seemed to be taunting him.

Another rock came from Nash, but this time Harry managed to spin out of the way and get to his feet. He had to find a staff member, and fast, or he was going to be pulverized. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he ducked another rock and ran. Tom and his gang were shouting and chasing after him as fast as they could, and Harry could feel himself becoming lightheaded as blood rushed from his broken nose. He could tell by their shouts that they were gaining on him, and still there was no staff member in sight. What he really needed was a weapon.

Quickly changing direction, he sprinted toward the building, where he saw a broom with a sturdy-looking handle leaning against the wall. If he could just get his hands on it, he might by able to buy himself a little more time. A well-aimed rock hit him in the back of the knee, and he fell, rolling several times before coming to a stop. Tom was almost on top of him, hatred etched all over his bloodstained face.

Acting on instinct, Harry thrust his hand out in the direction of the broom, which was still at least five feet out of reach, and yelled, “Accio!� The broom flew into his hand, and he jammed the end of the wooden handle hard into Big Tom’s stomach. Tom crumpled, gasping for breath, as Harry scrambled to his feet and began running once more. As he ran, an uncontrollable urge to fly away on the broomstick came over him. It was absurd, of course, but then again, so was calling it to him the way he had done only seconds before. In a moment of pure insanity, he leapt into the air, throwing himself astride the wooden handle, and crashed hard into the ground. A rock hit him in the back, and he lay still, his energy spent, and awaited the final blow to the head that would surely do him in.

A whistle sounded, and suddenly the air was filled with shouting and the sound of running footsteps. In the midst of it all, he heard Tyler’s voice saying, “I saw them chasing after you, and I got Professor Johnston as fast as I could.�

Slowly, painfully, Harry rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Big Tom and his gang were being forced rather roughly into the building by several of the larger staff members. As the school matron approached with a stretcher, he closed his eyes once more, and finally allowed the pain and exhaustion to consume him.

* * * * *
Despite having several large bruises and a broken nose, the remainder of October was rather enjoyable for Harry - at least, it was as enjoyable as life at St. Brutus’s ever was. Big Tom and his gang had been locked up and isolated from the rest of the boys for what the staff referred to as a “cooling off period.� Harry spent his days skimming through his classes while doing the least possible amount of work, and hanging out with Tyler during their free time. Most of their free evenings were spent playing with Snowy, the large white owl that had befriended Harry. A couple of times, Harry slipped off alone to talk with Hassseth, but she began hibernating around the twentieth of the month. He had grown fond of the small snake, and it saddened him to know that it would be months before he got to see her again.

The thing that brought the most enjoyment to Harry’s life, however, was his dreams. Nearly every night, he dreamed of the brown-eyed girl’s face, and the dreams seemed to give him the hope and strength he needed in order to face another day at St. Brutus’s. It was stupid, of course, since he knew she probably didn’t even exist outside his own head, but somehow that didn’t matter. Just the thought of her could bring a smile to his face, and that was enough.

As Halloween approached, rumours began circulating among the boys, saying that Big Tom and his gang would be rejoining the rest of them soon. Harry still secretly held onto the hope that they might never come back, but the rest of the school didn’t seem to be taking any chances: Harry and Tyler, known to everyone to be the reason the gang was locked up, were ostracized. Nobody wanted to be associated with an enemy of Big Tom’s.

On Halloween morning, Tom and his friends strolled into the dining hall with an air of arrogance that clearly indicated that their time away had done nothing to change their attitudes. Harry and Tyler ate hurriedly, watching the larger boys warily all the while.

Harry couldn’t quite place why, but the concrete dining hall and stone corridors of St. Brutus’s somehow seemed too empty for Halloween. As he walked from one class to the next, and whenever he allowed his mind to wander during lessons, he saw flashes of elaborate Halloween decorations in his mind. Where did those images come from? Might they be coming from the same place that his dreams and other impulses did? Was it possible that all those things were memories of the past five years that were trying to resurface?

It was useless to ask himself these things, of course, especially when he knew that some of the dreams included a girl in the stone corridors of St. Brutus’s. That fact alone meant that it couldn’t have really happened. He was probably just wishing so badly for his memory to return that his mind was trying to invent one for him. As for the ‘magic,’ as Tyler called it, there had to be another explanation - after all, it wasn’t as if witchcraft could really unlock doors and things.

Harry sighed deeply as the loud ringing of a bell brought him back to reality. All around him, the other boys were stowing their books and heading to supper. Once again, Harry had the strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right as he entered the dining hall. He looked around and found nothing out of the ordinary, but perhaps that was the problem. Shouldn’t there be some sort of a feast on Halloween? He shook his head. There were no feasts of any kind at St. Brutus’s. You were lucky to get food that didn’t make you want to vomit.

“What is it?� Tyler asked suddenly.

“Huh?� Harry asked.

“You were sort of staring off into space, and then you shook your head like you were deciding against something.�

“I was just thinking,� Harry said vaguely as he took a bite of what appeared to be rancid oatmeal.

“About...� Tyler prompted.

Harry took a moment to swallow and take a sip of water. Finally, deciding he could confide in Tyler, he said, “It’s stupid, really. I was just thinking how it’s Halloween, so we should be having a big feast with all sorts of, I don’t know, good things to eat. And instead, we’re eating this rubbish.�

Tyler smirked. “A feast for Halloween? I know I don’t get out much, Harry, but I don’t know of anybody who celebrates Halloween with a big feast - except maybe witches.� He winked at Harry, but Harry just shook his head.

“We’ve been through this,� he said. “I don’t know the first thing about witchcraft. And anyway, witches aren’t real. There’s no such thing as magic, remember?�

Tyler lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yeah, I remember really well how you unlocked that door by whispering, ‘Aloha-something-or-other.’ If that wasn’t magic, what was it?�

“I don’t know, alright?� Harry snapped. “Look, there’s no such thing as magic, so just drop it. There has to be some other explanation.�

“Whatever you say, mate.�

They ate in silence until they could stomach no more of the acidic slop, and then headed for the dormitory to work on their daily assignments. Since no one put much effort into their schoolwork, it was relatively easy to keep up, and they were finished by eight o’clock. The rest of the time before bed was passed in games of tic-tac-toe and hangman, which Tyler used as an opportunity to needle Harry by choosing such words as ‘magic,’ ‘witch,’ and ‘broomstick.’

As soon as the dorm was silent except for the light snoring of a few of the boys, Harry nudged Tyler and gestured toward the doorway. Tyler nodded his assent, and they both threw on their dressing gowns and slippers, and padded through the maze of sleeping boys and up the stone staircase. Once outside the building, Harry headed straight for Snowy’s tree and called to her softly. The large, white owl responded immediately with a hoot, and then soared down to land on his outstretched arm.

“I still wish we knew your real name, girl,� Harry said in a quiet voice. “Snowy just isn’t quite right, is it?�

The owl stared at him and hooted in a manner that unmistakably meant, “No.�

As Tyler reached over to gently stroke the white feathers on her head, the sound of muffled voices coming from around the corner of the building startled all three of them, and was enough to make Snowy take flight. Harry and Tyler ran for the cover of the building’s shadow, and peeked around the corner.

Big Tom was over near the outer wall with his gang of four muscular thugs. They were all whispering excitedly, when Tom held up a hand and everyone fell silent. Harry strained to listen, but there was nothing to hear. All he heard was the croak of a bullfrog from the other side of the wall. Big Tom grinned and then hooted like an owl.

“He’s signaling someone,� whispered Tyler. “I wonder if he’s trying to escape.�

“I doubt it,� Harry replied. “Even with a ladder, it wouldn’t be easy getting through all that barbed wire and everything.�

A moment passed in silence, and then something about the size of a football came hurtling over the outer wall. Big Tom picked it up and began unraveling it until Harry could see that it was a heavy sweater. Once it was unraveled, Tom removed something small that had been wrapped up inside the sweater, looked at it for a moment, and then began wrapping the sweater around his right hand, which still held the small object.

“We’ve got to hide,� whispered Tyler. His voice was panicked, and when Harry looked at him, he noticed that his face was pale.

“Why?� Harry asked. “What is it?�

“He’s got a gun!� Tyler hissed. “That little thing he got out of the sweater was a gun, probably a little snub-nosed revolver.�

“How do you know?�

“You see how he’s wrapping that sweater around his hand?� Tyler asked. “That’s to muffle the sound. Silencers are hard to come by.�

Convinced, Harry started backing away just as Tom and his boys began walking toward where he and Tyler were hidden in the shadows. Before they reached the front doors of the school, however, a shout went up behind them, and they knew they’d been spotted.

“Run!� Harry yelled. He and Tyler burst through the doorway and ran blindly through the corridors, determined to stay far enough ahead that Tom wouldn’t get a clear shot. They turned right, then left, then left again, and found themselves running down a long, straight corridor. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Big Tom stop and take aim. There was no way he could aim properly with his sweater wrapped around the gun the way it was, but even if he missed, the chances were good that one of his targets would be hit by the bullet ricocheting off the stone of the narrow corridor, and a wounded target just became that much easier to finish off. Without even realizing the insanity of his actions, Harry stopped running, turned to face Big Tom, and threw out his hands, yelling, “Protego!� just as Tom pulled the trigger.

Even with the makeshift silencer in place, the gunshot wasn’t exactly quiet. Harry felt as if someone had given his hands a light push, and looked down to see the flattened lead bullet lying on the floor a few paces in front of him.

“Harry, let’s go!� shouted Tyler, who had finally looked back and realized that his friend was no longer running. He was nearly to the end of the corridor, and was jumping up and down to emphasize his words.

“It’s okay, Tyler,� said Harry with a confidence that he didn’t really feel. “You go and get help. I’ll hold them off.�

“Are you mad?� Tyler demanded.

“Just go!� Harry shouted. He might be able to hold them off for a while, but it wouldn’t be easy, especially if he had to worry about protecting Tyler too.

Tom, along with Lyon, Nash, and Wilkins, jogged down the hallway toward Harry, stopping only when they were within ten feet of him.

“Decided to accept the inevitable, eh?� Tom asked as he raised the pistol. He pulled the trigger, and in the narrow confines of the corridor, the muffled explosion caused Harry’s ears to ring. A second flattened bullet fell to the ground in front of him. Like the first one, it had apparently been blocked by an invisible shield.

“Not bloody likely,� Harry spat. Behind him, the soft sound of Tyler’s receding footsteps told him that his friend had finally decided to run.

Tom looked from Harry to the bullets on the floor to his wrapped right hand, and growled before firing the rest of his bullets in rapid succession. Each time, Harry felt a gentle push against his hands, but nothing more as his invisible shield blocked the bullets.

Harry glared at Tom, and Tom glared back. It was a standoff, and both of them knew it. If Harry lowered his shield to try and escape, he would be vulnerable to attack by Big Tom and the three goons that stood with him.

Three? Harry asked himself suddenly. Weren’t there four of them with him?

The instant he saw Tom’s expression change to a satisfied smirk, Harry knew he’d been tricked. He spun to look behind him, but it was too late; Lloyd Hodges, the missing member of Big Tom’s gang, hit him hard across the side of the head with Madam Davies’ aluminum baseball bat. The taste of blood immediately filled his mouth. Harry struggled to get to his feet, but was quickly mobbed by the rest of the gang as they poured through his now collapsed shield. Vicious blows landed all across his body, but still he fought to stand. He somehow managed to get his right leg under him, but Hodges dealt him a sharp blow to the chest with the baseball bat, and sent him sprawling once more.

As Harry struggled to roll over, an elbow came down hard in the center of his left hamstring, causing it to knot painfully. Before he had time to recover, a heel slammed into the center of his right hamstring. Both legs curled underneath him involuntarily, and he found himself unable to straighten them. He twisted onto his back, swinging his fists wildly, but Big Tom caught his right wrist with a laugh, and threw him against the wall.

There was a sickening crack as Harry’s head hit the hard stone, but still he fought to stay conscious. Pushing himself up the wall as best he could with his nearly useless legs, he glared at the blurry shapes in front of him and realized in an almost detached sort of way that his glasses must have gotten knocked off at some point. He threw a feeble punch that didn’t connect with anything, and immediately felt a foot crash against his jaw, causing his head to impact the wall once again. The hall echoed with laughter as Big Tom and his gang began taunting him, but Harry’s head was throbbing so badly that he couldn’t even understand their jeers.

Shakily, knowing that the last of his energy was nearly spent, Harry pushed himself up on his arms. He looked up just in time to see Big Tom swinging the pistol toward him. It collided with the side of his head and sent him back to the floor. The gang was laughing louder now, and Harry knew it was all over; there was no way he could get back up. The blows continued, but he was already in so much pain that he almost didn’t notice, except when he was hit by the bat. Finally, one last blow to the head left him blissfully unconscious.

---

A/N: I had originally planned to kill Tyler off in this chapter, but after thinking about it, I realized that there wasn’t really a good reason to do it. So Tyler lives on. I hope that makes you happy. :)

---

Harry Potter awoke feeling more rested than he had in a long time. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming - after all, he was definitely lying in a bed, and he knew very well that he had no bed at St. Brutus’s - but when he tried to roll over, he discovered that he couldn’t move. As his entire body slowly began throbbing with pain, he tried to open his eyes. To his alarm, he found he was unable to do so; it felt like they were both swollen shut. Images of the beating he had received at the hands of Big Tom and his gang swam in Harry’s mind, as feelings of panic began to set in. Where was he? Had Big Tom and the others hidden him someplace to let him recover so they could beat him to a pulp all over again? He immediately discarded this thought; if Tom’s gang still had him, he wouldn’t be in a soft bed.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention, and he strained to hear what was going on. He heard a clanking of glass and a rustling of papers, and then the creaking of a chair as the newcomer sat down. Then there was silence. As the silence grew longer, he became uneasy. Why didn’t the visitor speak? Then again, why should they, if he was pretending to be asleep?

Straining against his swollen eyelids, Harry managed to force his left eye open a crack. The small room was blurry, but he was able to make out a large wooden desk and a row of filing cabinets. Behind the desk sat a short, plump woman with gray hair, who was watching Harry intently.

“I was wondering when you would wake up,� the woman said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was soft and kind, much kinder than any other voice he could remember. She stood and approached Harry’s bed, and as she drew near, he was able to see that she wore a hospital matron’s uniform. The matron clicked her tongue and shook her head sorrowfully. “What ever possessed you to be up after hours with that group of hoodlums?� she asked.

“I- er, well,� Harry stammered. His mouth was dry and his entire face was swollen, making speech extremely difficult. The matron waited patiently. He swallowed hard and began again. “I’m friends with this snowy owl that lives on the grounds. I snuck out to visit her, but then I heard voices from around the corner of the building. It was Big Tom and his gang. Somebody tossed a gun over the wall to him, he saw me, and I ran. He tried to shoot me, but he missed, but they finally caught me in one of the corridors and started beating me. After that, I don’t remember anything.�

“Hmmm...� The matron appeared to be deep in thought. “That does seem to square with Mr. Stevens’ story. I wonder, though, why you didn’t mention that he was with you.�

Harry hesitated a moment before finally answering, “I didn’t want to make trouble for him.�

The matron nodded, seemingly satisfied. “My records show that this is the second time you have been knocked unconscious while at St. Brutus’s, is that correct?� Harry nodded. “And no trouble with amnesia this time?�

“No,� Harry replied. “I still can’t remember anything from about the time I was ten until the start of the summer holiday, but after that I remember everything all right.�

“Good,� said the matron. “At least we don’t have that to worry about too. As I’m sure you’ve already discovered, your injuries this time around are much more extensive than they were at the end of last term. Tell me, though, can you ever remember being seriously injured like this before?� She sounded very interested, as though this was more than just a simple question about his medical history, but Harry couldn’t imagine why.

“Not that I can remember,� he answered. “Why?�

“Well... It’s just that, given the identities of your attackers, and how long they were at it before your friend, Mr. Stevens, brought help, you shouldn’t be here.�

“What, you mean I ought to be in a hospital or something?� Harry asked.

“No, dear� said the matron very softly. “I mean you ought to be in a morgue.� She paused a moment to let this statement sink in. Harry’s head was spinning, but he struggled to remain coherent as she began speaking again. “You have-� she paused to consult the medical chart in her hand, “-seven cracked ribs, a cracked collar bone, and small fractures in your right tibia and left femur, plus several more in your arms, hands, and fingers. That’s why you’ve been restrained to the bed: so you won’t upset the healing process. You’re also covered in contusions, your nose is broken - again - and there are several hairline fractures in your skull.�

Harry’s mind reeled. He didn’t even know it was possible to have that many broken bones at the same time. It was going to take a long time to recover from all this. He had understood only part of the matron’s explanation of his injuries, but it didn’t sound good. “So what you’re saying,� he said finally, “is that people don’t usually survive those sorts of injuries?�

The matron laughed softly. “Oh, heavens no, child. What I’m saying is that, although there are a lot of them, your injuries are relatively minor. None of your bones were broken all the way through - they were just cracked. You ought to have died from head injuries, but instead you only have a few hairline fractures that will heal themselves quickly enough. You didn’t even have any teeth knocked out.�

“What are you trying to say?� Harry asked. For all he knew, her point could be perfectly obvious, but at the moment, he had a terrible headache and his mind was spinning with everything he was being told.

“What I’m saying is that, given what I know about the boys you were fighting with, and the fact that they were using weapons - the pistol and the baseball bat - combined with what I was told by Mr. Stevens and Professor Stinnes, the staff member who finally came to your rescue, your injuries ought to be much more severe. Under normal circumstances, any of those boys could literally beat a person’s brains out with a baseball bat. That’s why I told that idiot Davies that it was a stupid thing to have on the grounds. She leaves it locked in her office, as though there weren’t a hundred boys here who know how to pick locks.� She was ranting now, and Harry began to wonder if she remembered he was still here. “She should have kept to pepper spray and a stun gun hidden on her person like the rest of us, but she insists that the threat of physical violence is more effective.�

“But these weren’t normal circumstances?� Harry prompted when he thought it was safe to do so.

“What?� asked the matron. But before Harry had a chance to answer, she began talking again. “Oh, right. These were not normal circumstances. The abnormality was you. For some reason, even though they were beating you with all their combined strength, they were unable to cause any sort of lasting damage whatsoever. You may not look it, Mr. Potter, but you’re made of tougher stuff than the rest of us.�

“How long was I unconscious?� Harry asked. Now that he understood what she had been trying to say, he was eager to change the subject. No matter what the matron might say, he did not feel very tough at the moment, as he lay there bruised, battered, and strapped to a bed, with his eyes swollen shut.

“About fifteen hours,� she replied. “And speaking of being unconscious, you need to get some rest. I’m going to give you some painkiller through your I.V. One of its side effects is drowsiness, so it should help you sleep as well. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.� A moment later, Harry felt the slightly cold liquid enter the vein in his right forearm, and after only a few short minutes, he was snoring softly.

Harry was sitting at a small desk with a sheet of parchment in front of him and a long, thin black quill in his right hand. The words, ‘I must not tell lies,’ written in dark red ink, covered the parchment. He began to write, and once again the words, ‘I must not tell lies,’ flowed onto the page. He felt a stinging pain on the back of his right hand and, glancing at it, saw that the words had been etched into his skin. His eyes grew wide in shock as the cuts healed, leaving the skin red and raw. The room began to spin and swirl until it had disappeared entirely, leaving him in a crowded pub.

Harry walked around the room casually at first, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Soon, however, he was hurrying, somehow feeling driven to find someone, although he had no idea who that someone could be. Just as he was about to give up in frustration, he turned toward the window and saw her standing outside. There was no mistaking the girl, for he had dreamed of her countless times before. This, however, was the first time he had seen anything more than her face. He hurried out the front door of the pub and into the snow-covered street, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t disappear before he got there.

As he approached, Harry saw that the girl was standing next to a tall boy who was about Harry’s own age. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something very familiar about the boy’s gangly build, freckle-covered face, and patched cloak. When he noticed a lock of ginger-colored hair sticking out from under the boy’s winter hat, Harry felt a small jolt of recognition. He did know this boy. He knew the girl too, but after having dreamed of her so often, he couldn’t be sure if he knew her in real life, or just in his dreams. Turning toward the girl to get a better look at her, he noticed that she was shorter than him - although that wasn’t surprising, since few girls his age were as tall as he was. Almost without realizing he was doing it, he reached out a hand toward the knit cap that hid her hair. As his hand touched the hat, everything but the girl’s face vanished. She laughed, and her brown eyes twinkled with mirth. Then she was gone.

* * * * *
The first thing Harry noticed the next time he was awake and his mind was clear, was that the swelling around his eyes had decreased considerably. With just a little effort, he was able to open both eyes, although without his glasses it was still difficult to see very much. Not that there was a lot to see in the infirmary, but prolonged periods without his glasses gave him a headache.

After he had only been awake for about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the door to the infirmary open and turned toward it, expecting to see the matron entering to check up on him. Instead, he saw Tyler poke his head around the corner.

“About time you woke up,� Tyler said, as he took a seat next to Harry’s bed. “I’ve been by three times today, and you haven’t stirred once.�

Harry smiled wearily. “Sorry. They keep knocking me out with these ruddy painkillers. What happened?�

“You’ve been here about a week,� answered Tyler.

“A week!� Harry shouted. “I thought it had only been one day.�

Tyler shook his head. “It’s been a week. They chucked out Big Tom and Lloyd Hodges - sent them to a maximum security youth prison for assault with a deadly weapon. The rest of the gang are still here, though. It sounds like you won’t be going back to the dormitories, either. They think it’s too dangerous for you, so they’re sending you to one of the solitary rooms for your own protection, once you get out of here.�

“For my own-� Harry began. He was livid. How could they do that? They were going to lock him up every night. Why not lock up the ones who wanted to harm him?

“I know, Harry,� Tyler said in a placating tone. “It’s a load of rubbish, but there’s nothing we can do about it. On a happier note, though, you’re healing really quickly. Madam Hanover, the matron, said you should be out of here in another week, even though the sort of injuries you have ought to take more than a month to heal. She seemed really impressed with your genetics. You know what I think, though?�

“What?� Harry asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward to form a slight grin. “That I’m healing so fast because of magic?�

Tyler grinned. “Finally accepting it, are you? I saw the way you blocked those bullets; you can’t deny it anymore.�

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillow. “No, I can’t. I wish I had my glasses,� he said. “Without them, I keep getting these ruddy headaches.�

“I’ve got them right here,� said Tyler. Harry opened his eyes to see his friend pulling the twisted and bent metal frames from his pocket, along with a few fragments of the lenses. “There’s not much left, but I didn’t figure you’d want them thrown out. I don’t know what you’ll do with them, though.�

Harry smiled slightly. “You’re forgetting what you keep telling me, Tyler: I’m a witch. Or, whatever it is they call male witches.�

Carefully, so as not to move his arm, which was still in a cast, Harry pointed his right index finger at the twisted remains of his glasses and whispered, “Accio!�

Tyler gasped involuntarily as the bent frames and shattered lenses flew from his hand, coming to rest on the bed, just in front of Harry’s outstretched finger.

Reaching out to lightly touch the wire frame, Harry said, “Reparo.� Instantly, the glasses were whole again.

“Blimey,� whispered Tyler. “When did you learn that?�

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been dreaming a lot lately, so I’ve been paying attention to any magic I see in my dreams. So far, the only thing I’ve tried that didn’t work was flying away on that broomstick when Tom and his gang were pelting me with rocks. I’m not sure why that one didn’t work, but...� he let the sentence trail off. “Anyway, here’s another one.� He waved his finger at the glasses and said, “Wingardium Leviosa.� The glasses began to levitate, and, guided by Harry’s finger, finally came to rest on his face.

“Excellent,� whispered Tyler.

* * * * *
Two more days passed before Madam Hanover noticed that Harry was wearing his glasses. When she questioned him about it, he told her that his uncle had sent them, and Tyler had brought them to the infirmary. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity, but the matron’s suspicion made Harry re-think his use of magic; he didn’t want anyone to catch on to his newfound abilities. Tyler was even more excited by the possibilities than Harry was himself, but Harry was not so naïve that he thought everyone else would share Tyler’s enthusiasm. He remembered learning about witch hunts and witch burning in primary school, and he had no desire to learn more about them first-hand.

When the cast was finally removed from his right arm, Harry glanced at the line of small white scars that traced the back of his hand. He had first noticed them over the summer, when he had spent his days sitting on a rock and staring out at the sea. At the time, they had seemed unimportant, a memento of some forgotten fight, but now his heart pounded as he brought his hand up close to his face. From up close, it was clear that the line of scars had not come from a fight, for they very clearly spelled out the words, ‘I must not tell lies.’

Harry took in a sharp breath as his mind went back to his dream about the black quill pen. How had he gotten those scars? Could the dream have really happened? But that was impossible; quills didn’t magically cut into the back of your hand as you wrote. Magically? Did the scars have something to do with witchcraft? And was he considered “incurably criminal� because he had been a compulsive liar, as his punishment seemed to suggest? Each day that went by seemed to bring new questions, but no new answers.

By the time Harry was released from the infirmary, it was already mid-November. A light blanket of snow covered the ground outside, and the corridors of the school were damp and chilly. When he wasn’t in class or in the dining hall, Harry was confined to a small room that was normally used as a holding cell. Deprived of the free time that he usually spent outside with Tyler and Snowy, the owl, Harry sat on the stone floor and whiled away the hours by catching up on the lessons he had missed while in the infirmary.

“Alright,� he muttered to himself after reading Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar for Madam Davies’ class. After a few moments of thought, he scribbled down a title for his essay: The Ides of March and the foolishness of trusting in prophecies.

By the time everyone else had gone to bed, Harry’s essay was complete. Leaving his pencil and notebook on the floor, he pressed his ear up to the door to listen for anyone who might be in the corridor. Hearing nothing, he took hold of the doorknob and whispered, “Alohomora.� The lock clicked, and he hurried down the darkened corridor and up the stone staircase that led to the front entrance of the school. After peering around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, he stole out of the front doors and onto the grounds.

It was good to breathe fresh air again, and he spent several minutes just standing on the snow-covered grass and breathing deeply of the crisp, cold air. A hooting sound caught his attention, and he looked up to see Snowy swooping toward him. He held out his left arm, and the owl landed gently on his newly-healed forearm. She seemed heavier than he remembered, and he nearly dropped her.

“Whoa, there girl,� Harry said. “Madam Hanover told me that it would be a while before I got my strength back. I guess she was right. Could you maybe just perch on a low branch tonight?�

Snowy nipped affectionately at him with her beak, and fluttered over to a branch that was near Harry’s eye-level.

Harry breathed deeply once more before turning to his feathery friend and saying, “So, Tyler keeps telling me I’m a witch.� Snowy cocked her head, but continued to look at him. Harry chuckled disbelievingly. “I actually think I believe him. Maybe I really am the ‘freak’ that Uncle Vernon always said I was. But you know what, Snowy? If I’m going to be a freak, I’m going to be the best freak I can be.� The owl beat her wings and hooted approvingly, causing Harry to smile. “I’ve just got to find out how to remember everything I know how to do. But in the meantime, I don’t suppose it would hurt to do a little practicing.�

Harry quickly made a small pile of snowballs, and spent the next half hour summoning, banishing, and levitating them. When the chill of the night air finally started to get to him, he launched the lot them against the outer wall, and headed back inside. Only after he was safely back inside his little room did he realize that he would need a key to re-lock his door.

“How could I be so stupid?� he muttered as he sank down onto the stone floor. Now he wouldn’t be able to sleep. What if one of the remaining members of Tom’s gang came after him? With the door unlocked, he would make an extremely easy target.

The next morning, Harry was jerked from his half-sleep by the sound of his door opening. Immediately, his hand went up, prepared to either conjure a shield or send the intruder flying down the corridor, depending on what was needed. As it turned out, nothing was needed; it was just the morning guard coming by to unlock the door.

“Who unlocked this door for you?� the guard demanded. He was a short, barrel-chested man with a military air, and his gruff voice went perfectly with his appearance.

“What?� Harry asked. “Er, you did just now.� He knew it was a lame thing to say, and hearing himself say it out loud only made it sound even more absurd. Of course the guard knew the door had been unlocked. Harry felt his palms begin to sweat, and he struggled to keep his face impassive.

“No games, boy,� barked the guard. “You know who unlocked this door, and you’re going to tell me!�

Harry’s nervousness increased, but with it came a hint of anger. Who did this man think he was, barging in and making accusations like that? His accusation was true, but still... it might not have been. “Oh, I forgot,� Harry said, making sure the sarcasm in his voice was obvious, “the nighttime guard gave me a key, and I unlocked the door to make sure the blokes who want to kill me wouldn’t have any trouble getting in. You do know that’s why I’m in here, right?�

The guard hesitated. Whether he was shocked at Harry’s reaction or he simply saw the logic in the words of his outburst, Harry never found out, but the guard nodded curtly and headed back out into the hall.

* * * * *
After turning in his essay at the end of English class, Harry cautiously approached Madam Davies’ desk. He knew she had disliked him ever since the first day of class, when she had taken his answer to one of her questions as an attempt to mock her. That dislike had only grown when she had been forbidden to bring her beloved baseball bat to school after it was stolen by Lloyd Hodges, who had used it to beat Harry senseless. Harry had no idea why she insisted on acting like this was his fault, but there was no denying that her dislike for him had increased since his release from the infirmary. Perhaps it was because she was feeling guilty.

“Madam Davies?� Harry said.

“What is it, Potter?� she asked irritably.

“I was wondering, do you happen to have a Latin dictionary?�

Madam Davies’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?� she asked.

Harry shrugged. “I just needed to look up a Latin word for an essay I’m writing for History class,� he answered, using the story he had already decided upon.

Still eyeing him suspiciously, Madam Davies pulled a thick book from the shelf beneath her desk and handed it to him. She watched as he turned to the verb ‘to lock’ and copied down the Latin translation: obfirmo. Quickly, Harry turned to the Latin section of the book and looked up obfirmo, copying down the English translation: ‘to bolt, lock, fasten, bar.’ Satisfied, Harry pocketed the slip of paper he had been writing on and handed the book back to Madam Davies, who was still watching him closely. He didn’t care, of course. How could she possibly guess what he wanted that Latin word for?

“You’d better get going, Potter,� said Madam Davies. “I won’t be used as an excuse for you being late for your next lesson.�

“Yes, ma’am,� Harry said, and hastily picked up his books and left the classroom.

On the way to dinner that evening, Harry took a short detour to drop off his books in his “private room,� as the staff liked to call it. Private room, what a joke! Harry thought. Isolated cell is more like it. After setting down his books, he turned to the closed door and took a deep breath as he withdrew the crumpled note from his pocket.

“Obfirmo,� he whispered to himself. “Latin is supposed to be the language of magic, right?� Placing his hand on the doorknob, he turned it slightly, just to make sure it was unlocked. It was. Finally, after closing his eyes in concentration, he said in a firm voice, “Obfirmo.� There was a soft click. He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. Harry smiled, whispered the unlocking charm, and headed to dinner. He would be visiting Snowy again tonight.

Upon entering the dining hall, Harry hurried over to where Tyler was seated. In between bites of unidentifiable green paste, they exchanged whispers, and arranged to meet outdoors after curfew. After choking down as much “food� as he could stand, Harry walked back to his room, where he began exercising. Two weeks of lying flat on a bed had caused his muscles to atrophy, and Madam Hanover had been adamant about the need for him to exercise every evening. He did pushups, sit-ups, and leg-lifts, and then spent twenty minutes jogging around the perimeter of the tiny room. By the time he had finished, he was so dizzy that he vomited in the middle of the floor. Almost reflexively, he waved his hand at the acrid puddle and said, “Evanesco.� The vomit vanished, and Harry was left quite pleased with himself as he made a mental note to remember that spell.

After finishing his exercises and homework, he pulled on his coat, unlocked the door to his little room, and stole through the corridors until he arrived outside. Tyler was waiting for him under Snowy’s tree.

“What do you want to do tonight?� Tyler asked.

“Train,� Harry said simply. “I figure, I keep getting attacked, so I’d better learn how to use magic in a fight. Start making snowballs.�

Tyler grinned and immediately knelt down to start packing the snow into tight, round balls. Harry ran to take cover behind a tree and, using a combination of Summoning and Banishing spells, soon had formed a large number of snowballs of his own.

As he was concentrating on making one last snowball, he was suddenly hit in the back of the head by an extremely hard-packed snowball. Spinning and ducking, he dodged Tyler’s next projectile, and managed to bark, “Abigo!� at one of his own. The snowball flew toward Tyler, but he dodged it easily.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Harry,� Tyler taunted, as he threw another snowball.

This time, Harry was ready, and he calmly said, “Protego.� Tyler’s snowball hit an invisible barrier a few feet in front of Harry, and dropped to the ground. “Abigo!� Harry hissed, this time directing his snowball with his outstretched hand, rather than just launching it. Tyler dodged to his left, but Harry simply made the snowball curve so that it hit him in the chest.

“That was a good one!� Tyler called, grinning and brushing snow from the front of his coat.

For the next twenty minutes, they continued, until Tyler finally called a truce.

“I haven’t hit you with anything since that first one,� he complained with a wide grin, “and you haven’t missed since your first one. I’m soaked; let’s go inside.�

Harry nodded his agreement. “Thanks for helping me practice,� he said.

“Any time,� Tyler replied. “It was fun. Frustrating, but loads of fun.�

For the final weeks before the Christmas holiday, Harry was extremely busy: he spent his free time during the day catching up on missed lessons, and his free time in the evenings exercising. After curfew every night, he and Tyler snuck outside to visit Snowy and practice Harry’s magic. For the first time since coming to St. Brutus’s, he began to feel like he was accomplishing something.

Strangely, Harry found himself looking forward to spending the Christmas holiday with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. It wasn’t that he had suddenly developed any affection for them or anything; he was just looking forward to his Aunt Petunia’s cooking. Even if Dudley was still on a diet, the food at the Dursleys’ would never be as bad as the food in St. Brutus’s dining hall.

Of course, one of the many downsides to returning to the Dursleys’ for the holidays would be his inability to use magic. His cupboard under the stairs wasn’t large enough to do much practicing, and he wasn’t stupid enough to let his aunt and uncle know that all their worst fears about him being a freak had been realized. Better to wait until I don’t have to live there anymore, he thought. Then I’ll jinx their socks off and leave for good.

---

The bus ride from St. Brutus’s back to Surrey took hours, but it seemed short compared to the twenty minutes Harry spent in the car with his Uncle Vernon, who was in a nasty mood.

“Don’t see why they have to send you home for the holidays,� he muttered, glaring at Harry as he zipped through the traffic. “I wish they’d just keep the whole lot of you, and throw away the key!�

Harry pretended not to hear him. If he remembered anything about dealing with his uncle, it was that silence was generally the best policy. Uncle Vernon continued grumbling all the way home, but Harry didn’t care. True, he would have to deal with his annoying and sometimes brutish relatives, but at least he wouldn’t be dealing with any attempts on his life. Plus, Aunt Petunia’s cooking would be a welcome change; she might make everyone participate in Dudley’s diet the way she had during the summer, but at least she would never serve rancid food - not even to Harry.

Walking through the front door, Harry was greeted by a welcoming punch in the jaw from Dudley. He just shook himself and smiled at his cousin. “You know, Dud,� he said, “after being hit across the face with a baseball bat, your punches don’t seem all that bad.�

Dudley grimaced and threw another punch just to prove that his punches were too “that bad,� but Harry ducked it easily and dashed into his cupboard under the stairs, where he stretched out on his little bed and waited for suppertime to be announced.

The holiday wasn’t as bad as Harry had feared it might be. Dudley still liked trying to beat up on him, but Harry was fairly good at escaping. A couple of times, he almost used magic in self-defense, but he always managed to stop himself. If the Dursleys found out he was a witch, he would likely be out on the street before nightfall, and then where would he go?

When Christmas Day arrived, Harry was not surprised when Dudley received a mountain of presents, while he was given nothing but a badly-wrapped, broken marionette that was missing all of its strings. Sadly enough, it was the best present he could ever recall having received from the Dursleys.

The food at Christmas dinner, however, was excellent: turkey, ham, roast potatoes, and anything else that Uncle Vernon and Dudley might find appetizing. It appeared that the diet had been put on hold for the holiday feast, and for that, everyone was grateful. Although he was not allowed first choice of the food, Harry was still able to secure a satisfyingly large and tasty meal before retiring to his cupboard.

As he lay on his bed, daydreaming about being able to practice magic openly, his eyes fell on the marionette that the Dursleys had given him. He smiled as he whispered, “What do you think, Pinocchio? Can we make you dance like a real boy?�

For about an hour, Harry practiced casting a separate levitation charm from each of the fingers of his right hand: one for each of the marionette’s limbs, and one for its head. By the time he was finished, he was able to make it move quite easily, just by moving his fingers. After another half hour of making the marionette run, walk, jump, and dance at the foot of his bed, Harry was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. Without bothering to change into his pajamas, he lay back on his bed and fell fast asleep. Perhaps it was the fact that his stomach was truly full and content for the first time in months, or perhaps it was merely a coincidence, but his subconscious mind chose that night to give him a chance to prove to himself, once and for all, whether or not his dreams were made up of real memories.

It was late at night, and Harry was leaving the kitchen after having an unauthorized snack. As he approached the stairs in the darkness, he muttered to himself, “I could use a ‘Lumos’ spell about now.� He quietly ascended the staircase and entered Dudley’s second bedroom, where he knelt on the floor and began prying at a loose floorboard. The board came up, revealing a small hidden space. Harry pulled a folded paper from his pocket and placed it inside the hole before replacing the floorboard. Once it was securely back in place, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

In an instant, Harry was fully awake. It was pitch black inside his cupboard, preventing him seeing his watch, but from the lack of light coming under the door, and the silence that filled the house, he decided that it must be late enough that the Dursleys were asleep. Silently, he felt his way to the door and turned the handle. As he opened the cupboard door, a small amount of starlight coming in through a window illuminated his steps. Glancing around and seeing no one, he headed for the stairs. Unfortunately, the second step gave a loud groan as he put his weight on it. Harry froze. A light clicked on upstairs, and he made a mad dash for his cupboard, but it was too late.

“Boy!� hissed Uncle Vernon, stopping Harry in his tracks. “What are you doing sneaking around at this hour?�

“I wasn’t-� Harry began.

“Quiet! I don’t want to hear it. You get back in that cupboard this instant!�

After shooting his uncle a dirty look, Harry turned and ducked back into his cupboard, all the while grumbling under his breath. He sat down on the edge of his bed, waiting for Uncle Vernon to return to bed, but after a moment, there was a jangling of keys outside.

“Let’s see you come sneaking around now,� said Uncle Vernon as he locked the door to Harry’s cupboard. Harry didn’t respond and, after a moment’s pause, he heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs.

As he sat in the darkness, Harry went over the dream in his mind. He had been leaving the kitchen and, as he walked toward the dark stairs, he had muttered something about a ‘Lumos’ spell. Could that have something to do with light? Extending his right index finger, he whispered, “Lumos.� A narrow beam of white light shot from the tip of his finger, illuminating the inside of the small cupboard. Harry lowered his hand to extinguish the light, but nothing happened; the light remained. He gave his hand a shake and, almost without realizing it, whispered, “Nox.� The light went out.

“I’ll have to remember those two,� Harry told himself with a small grin. He would never be without light again.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and still he sat on the edge of his bed. After fifteen minutes, he decided it was safe to venture out again. Stepping toward the door, he muttered the unlocking charm and slipped out into the starlit hall. After ensuring that there was no one watching him, he whispered, “Lumos,� and directed the narrow beam of light at the darkened stairs. This time, he was careful to skip the noisy step, and he reached the landing without difficulty. After one more furtive look around, he pushed open the door to Dudley’s second bedroom and stepped inside.

The interior of the room was an absolute mess. Broken toys, games, and other things that belonged to Dudley littered the floor, the shelves, the old desk, and even the bed. The room stood in stark contrast with the rest of the house, which Aunt Petunia always kept unnaturally immaculate. Harry imagined that the reason for this was the fact that this was the only room in the house, aside from his cupboard, that Aunt Petunia never visited. In both cases, she kept the door closed and pretended there was nothing behind it.

As quickly as he dared, Harry closed the door and began pushing Dudley’s junk off of the loose floorboard under the bed. The noise made by an old skateboard scraping against the wooden floor as he pushed it aside made him cringe - it seemed ridiculously loud, and he found himself wishing he knew a spell that would prevent noise traveling through walls. After a moment’s pause during which he heard nothing more than Dudley’s loud snores coming from the next room, Harry pulled up on the loose board he had seen in his dream. It came out.

So far, so good, he thought. The dream had at least been accurate up to this point. Almost quivering with excitement at what he might find, Harry aimed his light into the open hole and swore under his breath. It was empty. If there ever had been anything hidden here, it was gone now.

As he rolled slightly to his left to make replacing the board easier, his light glanced off of a pale yellow slip of paper that had been hidden in the shadows. Harry held his breath, hoping against hope that it was something important - something that would trigger his memory. Slowly and carefully, he removed the small paper which, as it turned out, wasn’t paper at all; it was parchment. He felt like he was moving in slow motion as he unfolded it and directed his beam of light onto its surface. His hands were nearly trembling with excitement as he read the note:

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer is going okay. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened at the end of last term, and I can’t say I blame you. I’ll try my best to make sure nobody bothers you about it. There’s loads going on here - we’ve been really busy - but I’m not supposed to write about anything specific. Mum says they’re worried about the post being intercepted. Anyway, please let us know you’re okay so Mum will stop asking me every five seconds if I’ve heard from you. Just send a short reply with Hedwig. Please, Mum’s driving me batty.

We’ll come and get you as soon as we can. Don’t let the Muggles get you down.

Your friend,
Ron

Harry stared at the note, dumbfounded. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but there was definitely something strange about this short letter. For one thing, it had been hidden under the floor of Dudley’s second bedroom, even though it clearly belonged to Harry. What was so secret about it that he had gone to such lengths to hide it? Nobody ever searched his cupboard; why couldn’t he have hidden it there? Then there was the matter of what the note actually said. Who in the world would be “intercepting� his post? Uncle Vernon, perhaps? Or could it be the police? After all, he reminded himself, he was an incurably criminal boy.

Even as these thoughts ran through Harry’s head, he began to wonder about the mysterious event at the end of term. This letter couldn’t be referring to the fight that had taken his memory the previous year - if it was, then he would have remembered hiding it. It must be talking about something else that happened earlier - possibly by a year or more. And then there was the question of the strange name, Hedwig, and the word Muggles. Who was this Hedwig person? What in the world was a Muggle? He wondered if it was some kind of code that he had used with his partners in crime. True, Ron had referred to his mum in the letter, but Mum could just be somebody’s nickname or codename.

Above all of these jumbled thoughts, however, one thing stood out in Harry’s mind. The letter ended with the words, Your friend. Up until now, he had believed that Tyler was the first friend he had ever had. Now, though, he began to see the possibility that he had had more friends before his memory had disappeared. On top of that, the name Ron sparked some sort of recognition in his mind. The only problem was that he had no idea how to contact Ron, or Hedwig, or anyone else he might have known before. There was no address or telephone number on the note, and Ron was too common a name to even think of searching for him. Hedwig, on the other hand, was not a common name at all, but Harry was fairly certain that it was just a codename of some sort. After all, what kind of person names their child Hedwig?

A particularly loud snort coming from Dudley’s room jerked Harry from his musings, and he suddenly remembered that he was lying halfway under the bed in Dudley’s second bedroom. After slipping the letter carefully into his pocket, Harry quietly replaced the floorboard and moved a few of his cousin’s broken possessions on top of it. Then, still using the light coming from his fingertip as a guide, he stole down the stairs and into his cupboard, where he locked the door, extinguished the light, and collapsed onto his bed, hoping his dreams would give him a clue about how to find Ron.

Harry was sitting in a large library with a huge stack of books on the table in front of him. In the seat to his right, he recognized the bushy-haired girl he had dreamed about before. She was bent low over a list of some sort, and her mass of brown hair fell forward far enough to prevent him getting a proper look at her face. For a moment, he wondered if this could be the same girl whose beautiful face he had dreamed of so many times. The idea seemed to make sense, and he reached out his hand to brush her hair back and give himself a view of her face. Just as his fingertips reached the girl’s hair, however, she spoke, and he jerked his hand away.

“I made this list of spells that might be useful for the final task,� she said. “You already know some of them, but I think you ought to practice them anyway. I really need to get to class, though, so if you have any questions, you’ll have to ask me later.� She slid the list over in front of Harry, and slung her bag over her shoulder as she walked away, calling “Bye!� back at him. He never did get a good look at her face.

Harry looked down at the parchment in front of him. It read:

• Petrificus Totalus


• Incendio


• Diffindo


• Protego


• Impedimenta


• Four-Point Spell (“Point Meâ€�)


• Reducto


• Stupefy (counter: Rennervate)

Don’t forget: if you get hit with something, ‘Finite Incantatem’ will remove most jinxes and hexes.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, and he tried desperately to remember the spells from the list as he rummaged in the dark for something to write them down on. After two agonizing minutes, he cursed his own stupidity and whispered, “Lumos.� With the help of the light, he was able to locate a stub of a pencil that had been discarded in the corner. Unable to find anything else to write on, he pulled Ron’s letter from his pocket and scribbled the words he had seen in his dream onto the back of the parchment. Although he had no idea what the spells did, they all seemed familiar enough that he was able to remember them long enough to write them down. Unfortunately, without knowing what they did, he couldn’t risk trying them out at the Dursleys’. The test would have to wait until he returned to St. Brutus’s after the New Year.

---

For the first three days after the Christmas holiday, St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys was a flurry of activity. Just as had happened when classes began in September, the professors began the new term with large assignments, and the guard staff took extra care when patrolling the corridors at night.

Because of the staff’s renewed vigilance, Harry was unable to risk sneaking out at night, for fear of being caught out of bounds. The confinement, coupled with the already depressing atmosphere of St. Brutus’s, began weighing heavily on him after only a few days, and it seemed that the only thing keeping him sane was the calming presence of an unknown girl’s face in his dreams. He had been dreaming about this same girl for months now and, even though he was no closer to learning her identity than he had ever been, she had become a symbol of hope in this dreary place.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the students’ apathy to rub off on the St. Brutus’s staff. By the end of the second week back, the professors were once again content as long as no fights broke out during class. Around the same time, nighttime patrols diminished until they effectively disappeared altogether, the guards apparently trusting the alarms to awaken them if something really serious happened.

On a more personal level, after the first two weeks of term, Harry was once again free to roam the grounds after the other students had retired to bed. On the second Saturday night after returning from the Dursleys’, he decided that it was finally safe to sneak out onto the grounds. After donning his hat and coat to shelter him from the cold, he moved silently through the darkened corridors and out the large front doors of the ancient building.

Once outside, Harry headed directly for the large tree that he had come to think of as belonging to Snowy, the large snowy owl that had befriended him back in September. He whistled softly, and the owl responded with a low hoot as she circled the tree and finally came to rest on his outstretched arm. Harry’s daily exercises seemed to be paying off, for he found that his muscles had recovered to the point that he was now able to support the large owl without much difficulty.

“Hey there, girl,� he said softly. “Did you miss me?�

Snowy gave him a look that clearly meant, “Do you really need to ask?�

Harry laughed. “I’ve got some new spells to practice. Want to watch?� The owl responded by flying up to a low branch of the tree, where she would have a clear view of Harry’s attempts.

Stimulated by the excitement of trying out new spells, Harry gathered an armful of large stones not unlike those that Big Tom and his gang had pelted him with back in October, and arranged them in a row near the outer wall. Nodding his approval, he took out the parchment with his scribbled list of spells and read the first one aloud: “Petrificus Totalus.�

Satisfied that he was pronouncing the magic words correctly, he pointed at the first rock and said, in a firm voice, “Petrificus Totalus.� Nothing happened.

Hoping that this wasn’t all a waste of time, he moved on to the next spell and, still pointing at the rock, said, “Incendio!� Immediately, flames engulfed the rock, melting the snow around it. Harry jumped back in shock and watched, fascinated, as the flames died.

“That was a good one,� he whispered aloud as his mouth widened into a grin. Checking his list, he moved on to the next spell. As the fire did not appear to have damaged the rock, he pointed at it again and said, “Diffindo.�

For a moment, Harry thought it hadn’t worked, and he prodded the rock with the toe of his tattered shoe. Half of the rock fell away; it had been cut neatly in two. Harry stared in disbelief at the finger he had used to cast the spell, then tried it again on the next rock. Once again, the rock was sliced in half. Harry let out a low whistle and made a mental note not to mess around with that particular spell.

Snowy hooted her approval, and Harry looked at his list to find the next spell. Protego was one he already knew, so he moved on to the next one. Pointing at a rock, he said, “Impedimenta.� Nothing happened. He prodded the rock with his toe, but still it didn’t react. Shrugging, he moved on; it was getting cold, and he knew he would have to head back inside soon.

The next spell on his list was called the Four-Point Spell, and the bushy-haired girl in his dream had written Point Me next to the name. Puzzled, as this was the first time he had encountered a spell that was in English, he stood for a moment wondering what it could possibly do. Finally, he pointed to a rock and said, “Point Me.� Nothing happened to the rock, but Harry’s hand twisted around involuntarily until it was pointing behind him.

“That was weird,� he said aloud. “What use is something like that?� On a whim, he turned around, pointed at the old stone building, and said, “Point Me.� This time, his hand only shifted slightly to the left, so that it was pointing in the same direction as before. He tried the spell twice more, and each time his finger ended up pointing in the same direction.

Suddenly, the sound of Snowy clacking her beak caught his attention, and he looked up to see the owl swooping toward him with a small twig in her talons. She dropped the twig into Harry’s still-outstretched hand, and returned to her vantage point in the tree. Harry looked from the twig to the owl and back again.

“What is it, girl?� he asked. “What do you want me to do?�

She only hooted in reply, and watched him expectantly. For what felt like the thousandth time, Harry found himself wishing he spoke Owl.

Still holding the twig, he decided to try the Four-Point Spell one more time. This time, however, instead of his fingers twisting around to point toward the school, it was the twig that pulled his hand around. Intrigued, he laid the twig across his open palm and said, “Point Me.� It spun around once, and ended with the narrow end pointing in the same direction as before. Harry grinned at Snowy. “Thanks,� he called. She puffed out her chest importantly, causing him to chuckle before returning to his list of spells.

After a quick consultation of the list, he pointed at one of the rocks he had brought out for practicing spells on, and said, “Reducto.� The rock exploded, showering Harry with dust and bits of debris. He was thankful he wore glasses, or he was certain his eyes would have been damaged by the flying bits of rock.

“Need to be careful with that one, too,� he muttered as he brushed the dust from the front of his coat.

The last real spell on his list was Stupefy; the only one after that was just for removing the effects of some of the other jinxes and hexes. As he raised his hand to cast the spell at one of the remaining rocks, Harry heard a twig snap behind him. He froze. Who could have followed him out here this late at night? Was it possible that somebody was still out patrolling the school grounds? He cast the thought aside as quickly as it had come; if a member of the staff had seen him, they would have shouted at him immediately. His muscles tensed as it occurred to him that it must be someone who had seen him do magic before, but still wasn’t afraid to approach him. Three members of Big Tom’s gang remained at St. Brutus’s, and all of them had seen him use magic to block the bullets from their leader’s gun. If an attack was coming, it would come any second.

Deciding that it would be unwise to waste any more time, Harry spun and dove to his left. He pointed to the dark shape that was moving toward him and yelled the first spell that entered his mind: “Stupefy!� A jet of red light shot from his fingertip, illuminating the intruder’s face as it collided with his chest. Harry watched in horror as Tyler Stevens was knocked to the ground, where he remained, motionless.

Harry ran to his friend’s side and began shaking him. “Tyler!� he whispered frantically. “Tyler, wake up!� Tyler didn’t stir. As panic rose within him, Harry felt for a pulse, and breathed easier when he saw that Tyler’s chest was slowly rising and falling, as though he were simply in a deep sleep.

The parchment! Harry thought suddenly. There was a counter to the spell he had used on Tyler, and it was written on the slip of parchment. He felt in his pockets for it, but came up empty. Finally, he realized that he must have dropped it when he thought someone was coming to attack him. He began frantically searching the snow-covered ground, but the night was dark and it was difficult to see much of anything, especially a tiny slip of parchment.

“If only I had a light,� he muttered, and immediately slapped himself across the forehead for his stupidity. Of course he had a light! He had one with him all the time. A second later, a narrow beam of light was shooting from Harry’s fingertip, allowing him to quickly locate the parchment.

“Rennervate,� he read. “Right.� After walking back to Tyler’s still form, Harry touched him on the forehead and whispered, “Rennervate.� Tyler’s eyes snapped open, and he gaped at his friend.

“I don’t know what that was,� he began as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the ground, “but it was seriously cool!� The last statement was accompanied by a wide grin.

“I didn’t realize it was you,� Harry explained, although Tyler didn’t seem to mind the mistake at all. In fact, he appeared excited at the idea of having been knocked unconscious by a magical spell.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,� Tyler said dismissively. “How’d you learn to do that, though? I mean, until now, all the magic you’ve done has just been to move things.�

“I dreamed about this girl giving me a list of spells.� Harry replied. “She must be a witch too, because she’s the one I saw using the unlocking spell in one of my dreams. Anyway, when I woke up, I wrote down everything from her list.�

“Excellent,� whispered Tyler. “So, what do the others do?�

“I’m not sure about all of them,� Harry began. “Incendio starts a fire, Diffindo is some sort of cutting spell - I cut a couple of rocks clean in half with it - and Reducto made a rock explode. There was also this one called the ‘Four-Point Spell’ that will make a twig I’m holding in my hand point that way.� He pointed in the direction that the spell had directed his hand and the twig.

“North,� said Tyler.

“What?�

“That’s north. Look, there’s the North Star.� Sure enough, high in the sky in the direction Harry was pointing was Polaris, the North Star. “That must be some sort of witch compass. Handy, but not nearly as cool as knocking me out or blowing stuff up. Which ones haven’t you tried?�

“I’ve tried them all,� Harry said. “Well, all of them except for Finite Incantatem, which is just supposed to remove a jinx or hex. Petrificus Totalus and Impedimenta didn’t do anything to the rocks. I wonder if they’re even real spells.�

“They’ve got to be real if the others were,� Tyler insisted. “Maybe they just don’t work on rocks; I mean, that one you just used on me probably wouldn’t do much to a rock. It’s hard to knock an inanimate object unconscious, isn’t it?�

“Okay,� agreed Harry, “suppose you’re right. How do I test the last two?�

“Try them on me, of course!� Tyler replied. He was grinning widely and his beady eyes shone with excitement. Harry was suddenly worried that his friend had hit his head against the ground a little too hard.

“Tyler,� he said reasonably, “we have no idea what those spells do. I don’t want to do something that’s going to hurt you.�

Tyler looked at him as though he were missing something that was very obvious. “I’m no Latin expert, Harry, but I’m pretty sure Petrificus means ‘petrify’ and Totalus means ‘totally.’ So, Petrificus Totalus should just freeze me in place until you use that other one to release me. And Impedimenta is obviously an impediment, like it would stop me getting close to you or something. Come on, let’s try it.�

However much he didn’t want to admit it, Harry couldn’t deny that Tyler’s explanation sounded reasonable. Still not wanting to risk hurting his friend, though, he suggested a compromise. “How about if you throw a snowball at me, and I’ll try stopping it with Impedimenta?�

Tyler thought about this suggestion for a moment, and then nodded, scooped up a rather large handful of snow, and backed away several paces as he packed it into a tight ball. “Ready?� he called.

Harry extended his arm. “Let’s do it!� Tyler lobbed the snowball toward Harry in a graceful arc, giving him plenty of time to say, in a clear and firm voice, “Impedimenta.� The snowball’s progress almost came to a halt. It hung in midair, continuing ever so slowly along its path toward Harry.

“I told you!� shouted Tyler.

“Keep your voice down,� Harry warned, causing Tyler to look around suddenly, as though Harry’s warning would immediately call forth the school’s staff. Harry plucked the hard-packed snowball out of the air and tossed it back to Tyler, who caught it with ease. “Throw it faster this time,� he instructed.

“You got it.� Tyler’s eyes gleamed in the sparse starlight, and he launched his snowball like a missile aimed directly at Harry’s head.

“Impedimenta!� Harry hadn’t meant to shout, but the snowball was coming so fast that he had done so instinctively. Once again, it was as if someone had pressed the ‘slow motion’ button on a remote, and the snowball inched its way forward. For no reason at all, other than to test out another spell, Harry pointed at the snowball and said, “Finite Incantatem.� Instantly, its former momentum returned and, before he knew what had happened, it hit him squarely in the face. Tyler’s laughter echoed over the empty courtyard, and Harry couldn’t help but join in; it had been rather funny, after all.

“Let’s try the last one, Harry,� Tyler called between fits of laughter.

Harry began wiping the snow from his glasses. “How?� he asked.

“Just cast it on me! Come on, it’ll be fun.�

Harry shook his head. Sometimes, Tyler could act so much like a little child. “Not happening, Tyler. I have to know for sure what it does before I go trying it on someone.�

“I’m telling you, it will freeze me in place, and then when you say, Finite whatever, I’ll be unfrozen. It’s not that complicated,� Tyler insisted.

“Alright,� Harry agreed, relenting at last, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you. And if this does anything to hurt you, you can forget about ever watching me do magic again.�

“Agreed.� Tyler couldn’t have kept the excitement from his voice if he had tried.

Reluctantly, Harry pointed to his friend and said, in an unusually quiet voice, “Petrificus Totalus.� He watched in fascination mixed with a bit of fear that something would go wrong, as Tyler’s arms snapped to his sides and his body went rigid. “Tyler?� he called, but there was no answer. Stepping closer, he pointed again, and muttered, “Finite Incantatem.�

“That was brilliant!� cried Tyler.

“You’re sure you’re all right? Nothing’s wrong at all?�

“Stop worrying; I’m fine,� Tyler said, dismissing Harry’s concern with a wave of his hand. “It was a bit creepy, though. I was just frozen there, but I could still see and hear what was going on around me. I wasn’t even breathing, and I couldn’t feel my heart beating, but I wasn’t getting lightheaded like when I hold my breath. It was like- Well, I was going to say it was like magic, but it was magic.�

“I’m glad you’re okay, Tyler, but we’d better head back inside; it’s really late, and I’m getting bloody cold.�

Tyler nodded his agreement and, after bidding goodnight to Snowy, the boys trudged back through the front doors of the school and down to the places they slept: Tyler to the dormitory, and Harry to his secluded little cell, where he made sure to lock the door before settling in for what remained of the night.

---

For the next two months, Harry’s routine didn’t change. He attended his classes, put the smallest possible amount of effort into his homework, and practiced magic every night after curfew. By mid-March he was able to fire spells with equal ease from both hands, and he was learning to launch them from his feet as well.

After so many months of sleeping in a room by himself, Harry nearly jumped through the low ceiling when he awoke to the sound of a soft voice in his ear whispering, “Good morning, Harry Potter.� Once the initial panic had passed, he looked around and saw a small, rusty brown snake with a crossed pattern running down its back.

“Good morning, Hassseth,� Harry said with a smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How was hibernation?�

“Better than being out in the cold,� the snake replied. “How have things gone for you?� She looked at him inquiringly, and Harry wondered if she already knew the answer to her question.

“Not long after you started hibernating, Big Tom and his gang came after Tyler and me again. I was able to hold them off for a while, but one of them snuck up behind me and caught me by surprise. Luckily, Tyler escaped and got help before they were able to kill me, but I had to spend a long time in the infirmary.�

Hassseth nodded her head sympathetically. “You should have let me bite him when I had the chance,� she hissed. “It wouldn’t have done any permanent damage, but it would have been a while before he was able to sit normally.�

“He’s gone now anyway,� said Harry. “He and Hodges both got sent to a regular youth prison. That’s not the exciting thing, though. I found out something about myself while you were snoozing inside the walls.� He leaned down closer to the small snake and whispered, as though afraid someone else might hear, “I’m a witch.�

For a moment, there was silence. Then Hassseth broke into a fit of coughing and wheezing the likes of which Harry had never seen. He was just becoming alarmed when he realized with a jolt that she wasn’t coughing at all - the strange sounds he was hearing were the snake’s laughter.

“What’s so funny?� he demanded. The ability to do magic had become an important part of his life over the past months, and the idea that one of his very few friends found it amusing irritated him.

Hassseth spent a moment getting her laughter under control before using the tip of her tail to wipe away an imaginary tear and answering, “If you’re a witch, dear, then you’d better run before someone catches you in an all boys’ school.� Then, in a somewhat gentler tone, she added, “Witches are girls, Harry. You’re a wizard.�

“A wizard?� Harry asked blankly. Then, as the idea sank in, he grinned. “I’m a wizard.� It had a nice ring to it.

Hassseth smiled at him, showing her brilliantly white fangs, but Harry saw it for what it was and didn’t feel the slightest bit threatened.

“Can you talk to other kinds of animals, or just other snakes?� he asked suddenly.

“All animals can communicate, although we might not always be able to speak to one another directly. It’s complicated, but we can usually get our point across,� answered Hassseth. “Is there another animal you want me to speak with for you?�

“Yeah.� Harry was relieved that she didn’t seem offended by the idea. “You see, I have this other animal friend, Snowy. Actually, I’m sure that’s not her real name, but since I can’t talk to her, I don’t know what her real name is. She’s a snowy owl-�

Harry was cut off abruptly by a sharp hiss from Hassseth.

“What is it?� he asked immediately, concerned that he had said something wrong.

“Adders and birds of prey are enemies,� hissed the snake, her black eyes suddenly glittering in the dim light of the room. “If I give your owl friend half a chance, I’ll be her supper.�

“She wouldn’t hurt you, Hassseth,� Harry said in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. “I’ll be there holding you the whole time, and I promise I won’t let anything happen. I just want you to ask her what her real name is. That’s all.�

Hassseth thought this over for a long moment before finally nodding her tiny diamond-shaped head. “I’ll do it,� she said finally, “but if there’s any funny business, I won’t hesitate to bite.�

“There won’t be,� Harry promised. “Is tonight okay with you?�

Hassseth nodded. Suddenly, the sound of jangling keys came from outside the door.

“Go!� Harry hissed. It was unnecessary. At the first sound from outside, Hassseth had slithered across the floor with surprising speed and, by the time the door was opened, she had disappeared into a crack in the wall.

“Wake-up call,� the guard grunted through the open door.

“I’m up,� Harry grumbled. He hurriedly gathered his dressing gown and towel and headed off to take a quick shower before breakfast.

All day long, Harry’s mind was so occupied with the planned meeting between Hassseth and Snowy that he had trouble concentrating on his lessons. More than once, he was reprimanded for failing to pay attention, although he was never sure how the teachers had managed to catch him; after all, at least half the class daydreamed their way through anyway.

By the time everyone had gone to bed, Harry was pacing his room with excitement. Hassseth seemed to be even more nervous than he was, as she repeatedly coiled and uncoiled her body on the floor. Finally deciding that they had waited long enough, Harry offered his left hand to Hassseth and she slithered into it, wrapping the tail end of her body around his wrist for support and coiling the rest of herself in his palm. Noiselessly, they stole through the corridors until they arrived outside.

As he approached Snowy’s tree, Harry whistled softly, just as he always did. The large owl hooted her reply, and within seconds he spotted her soaring down toward him.

“On the branch tonight, girl, okay?� Harry called.

Snowy gave him a questioning look, but changed course and perched on a low branch of the tree. She cocked her head sideways and watched Harry expectantly.

“Snowy,� Harry said as he held out his left hand, “this is Hassseth.�

The owl began fluffing her feathers and furiously clacking her beak, making a horrible racket, and raised one clawed foot to take a swipe at the snake. Hassseth hissed menacingly, baring her long, sharp fangs.

“No!� Harry shouted, and jerked Hassseth away from Snowy. “She’s my friend, Snowy, just like you are. I realize you’re natural enemies, but please just put that aside for right now. I only brought her here so she can find out your real name for me. There’s no threat, I promise.�

Slowly, the two animals grew calm once again. Hassseth stopped hissing and stowed her fangs, and Snowy smoothed her feathers down once more.

Harry looked down at Hassseth. “Ask her,� he hissed.

Hassseth raised her body up in the air and let out a soft hiss as her forked tongue flitted in and out of her mouth. Slowly, she began to weave back and forth in a strange pattern, sometimes hissing and sometimes remaining silent. After what seemed an eternity, she lowered herself back into Harry’s palm and waited expectantly.

Now it was the owl’s turn. She hooted excitedly, clacked her beak, and hopped from one foot to the other. Then she fluffed up her feathers, beat her wings a few times, and smoothed her feathers down again. She twisted her head nearly all the way around - first to her right, and then to her left - while hooting a haunting melody. Finally, she took off from the branch, circled the tree once, and landed back in the same spot, looking expectantly at Hassseth.

“Well?� Harry asked the snake.

“You promise that this is the only time you’ll ask me to do this?� Hassseth responded.

“I promise,� said Harry.

“Very well. The owl’s name is Hedwig.�

Harry grew suddenly lightheaded and nearly lost his balance as the full meaning of Hassseth’s words washed over him. Hedwig, the one he was supposed to use to send a message to his forgotten friend, Ron, had been with him all along.

“Thank you, Hassseth,� he managed to choke out. Then, stroking the snowy owl’s feathers with his right hand, he whispered, “Thank you, Hedwig.�

* * * * *
Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ronald Weasley awoke to the sound of a beak tapping on the window of his dormitory at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Somebody let the bloody owl in,� he mumbled into his pillow.�

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The tapping continued, and it soon became apparent that Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas - the boys who shared Ron’s dormitory - had already headed down to breakfast. Ron, who had been hoping to have a bit more of a lie in on this Saturday morning, groaned loudly as he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the window. As he pushed the window open, however, he caught sight of the owl that flew into the room and his eyes flew open wide, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.

It had been almost a year since he had last seen this snowy white owl, and more than once Ron had wondered if he would ever see her - or her owner and his best friend, Harry Potter - again. Yet here she was, holding out her leg, which had a letter tied to it. Slowly, as though acting in haste might cause it to disappear, Ron untied the letter and opened it. It was written on Muggle paper using some sort of Muggle quill, but the handwriting was unmistakably Harry’s. His heart pounding, Ron began to read.

Dear Ron,

I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner, but I wasn’t able to send anything with Hedwig until recently. School is going okay - it’s boring a lot of the time, but I guess that’s to be expected, right? I just wanted to let you know that I came out okay from what happened last June. Let me know how things are going on your end. You can send a reply with Hedwig.

-Harry Potter

“What!� Ron shouted at the letter. “You disappear without a trace for almost an entire year, and the best you can come up with is, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner’?� Still fuming, he pulled on a set of robes and dashed down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Glancing around, he saw that the only person there was Colin Creevey, a very small fifth-year.

“Hey Colin,� he called, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice, “have you seen Hermione?�

Colin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ll bet she’s in the library,� he said.

“Right,� said Ron, and he headed out the portrait hole toward the library. Five minutes later, he was entering the library where, sure enough, he found Hermione Granger sitting behind a sizeable stack of thick books.

“Hermione,� he whispered, panting a little from having run nearly all the way from Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him. “If this is about you wanting to copy my Potions essay again, save your breath; I’ve already said no several times.� She turned back to her reading without waiting for a response.

Ron bit back a sarcastic reply; he didn’t need a fight right now. Instead, he whispered, “I didn’t come here to talk about Potions; I came here to talk about this!� He slapped Harry’s note down on top of the book Hermione was reading.

Hermione stared at the note for a second, and then let out a little shriek, for which she earned a glare from Madam Pince, the librarian. Soon, however, her expression clouded and she looked up at Ron. “Don’t you find it a bit odd that this came today of all days?� she asked.

Ron stared at her blankly. “What does it matter what day it came?�

Hermione sighed. “Ron, what day is it?� she coaxed.

“Er-� he looked around for a calendar. “It’s Fred and George’s birthday. But I still don’t see what that has to do with Harry.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “April Fool’s Day, Ron - that’s what today is. Don’t you find it a little odd that it’s been ten months since there was any sign of Harry, and now, all of a sudden, a letter from him appears on April Fool’s Day?�

“But why would Harry be trying to play a joke on us?� Ron asked, still unsure what his friend was suggesting.

“That’s not what I meant, Ron. I meant that it might not really be from Harry. It might just be somebody playing a cruel joke on you.�

Ron’s face flushed as he finally understood what Hermione had been trying to say. “This is Harry’s handwriting, Hermione, and Hedwig delivered it to me. It came from Harry alright, but there’s definitely something fishy about it too. Look at this: ‘School is going okay.’ What bloody school is he going to? I mean, he honestly sounds like he doesn’t even know he’s been missing.

Upon hearing that Hedwig had delivered the letter, Hermione examined it more closely. After two full minutes of staring at the short note, she finally looked Ron in the eye and whispered, “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore.�

After calmly strolling out of the library, Ron and Hermione took off at a run. They dashed down a long corridor and down two flights of stairs, then turned abruptly to the right and kept running until they came to a corridor whose only inhabitant was the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. As they skidded to a halt, Ron looked expectantly at Hermione.

“What do you think the password is?� he asked.

“I don’t know!� she shouted in exasperation. “It’s not like I come to the Headmaster’s office very often!�

“Well how are we supposed to get in, then?� Ron demanded.

“How-� Hermione’s retort was cut short by the gargoyle leaping aside to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing in the entrance to his office. He was wearing bright red robes and a serene smile, and did not look the least bit surprised to find two students arguing just outside his office.

“Good morning Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger,� the professor said with a wink. “What brings you to this deserted corridor on such a lovely day as this? Is there something you wish to see me about?�

“Yes, sir,� Ron said hastily. “You see, this note arrived for me this morning.� He handed the crumpled note to Dumbledore, who read it through carefully before inviting them both up to his office.

Once they were all seated comfortably, Dumbledore examined the note again, more closely this time. After a full three minutes - which felt more like thirty to Ron - he touched the tip of his wand to the paper and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes again after only a short wait, and said, “You did well to bring this to me.� Hermione beamed. “I believe that Mr. Potter did in fact write this letter. How did it arrive?�

“Hedwig – that’s Harry’s owl - brought it to my dormitory,� Ron answered.

“I see,� Dumbledore mused. “Have either of you seen Hedwig since Harry disappeared?�

“No sir,� they answered in unison.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the things Mr. Potter has chosen to say in this note are a bit odd.�

“‘A bit odd?’� Ron interrupted loudly. “It sounds like he’s barking! He’s been missing for what, ten months now? And all he can say is, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner?’� He suddenly stopped talking and started blushing as he realized he had been shouting at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore, however, resumed speaking again as if nothing had happened. “He seems to be in some sort of trouble, although frankly, I have no idea what trouble that might be. It appears that he’s trying to hide something, wouldn’t you say?�

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione spoke up. “What about the part where he talks about school? Do you think that could be some sort of hidden message? I mean, it’s obvious he’s not really at school, isn’t it?�

“Who cares about that?� fumed Ron. “Let’s just go find him so I can beat the snot out of him for disappearing and scaring everybody!�

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Weasley,� Dumbledore said with a small frown.

“Why not?� Ron asked. “All we’ve got to do is write a response, give it to Hedwig, and follow her to see where he is.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You can’t follow post owls, Ron - honestly, you ought to know that by now. No matter how many times you try, the owl will always end up losing you long before delivering its message.�

“You are quite right, Miss Granger,� said Dumbledore. “If post owls could be followed, tracking down fugitives would be a far simpler task.�

“Sir,� Hermione began, “do you think Harry’s trying to talk to us in code? Like when he mentions school and what happened last June?�

The Headmaster examined the tips of his long fingers and sighed. “I wish I knew, Miss Granger. Obviously, the events of last June most likely refers to the battle at the Ministry of Magic and the death of Harry’s godfather, but other than that....� He trailed off, and there was a long silence as they all contemplated what Harry might be trying to tell them.

After several minutes, Ron broke the silence by asking, “Professor, what should we do now? I’ve half a mind to send him a howler-�

“No, Ron!� Hermione insisted. “What if he’s somewhere where an exploding letter will cause him trouble? For all we know, he could be a prisoner somewhere, slipping notes through the bars to Hedwig, and hoping they don’t get intercepted.�

“Well, what should I write, then?� asked Ron.

“I would recommend answering Harry’s questions and then asking some of your own,� answered Dumbledore. “Try and get him to tell you where he is so that we can send someone to go and fetch him. I suspect, however, that he may be reluctant to reveal his whereabouts in a letter, particularly given the cryptic nature of what he has written here.� He tapped the letter for emphasis.

Ron nodded, and Hermione said, “Thank you, sir,� as they stood and headed for the exit.

---

Harry Potter sat in History class - the last class of the day - waiting impatiently for the Professor’s dismissal. Hurry up, he thought as he glared at the clock on the wall. It seemed to have frozen in place with the class only half over.

Looking to his left, Harry saw Todd Wilkins, one of the boys who had tried to beat him to death a few months earlier, rolling his pencil back and forth on the top of his desk. Harry discretely pointed at the pencil and whispered, “Abigo,� causing it to clatter to the ground several feet in front of Wilkins. Wilkins gave the class in general a threatening glare, as though he somehow knew that it had not merely happened by chance, before getting up to retrieve his pencil.

Harry sighed. It had been a stupid, childish prank - one that required no imagination whatsoever - and now he felt bad for having done it. It wasn’t that he felt sorry for Wilkins; it was simply the fact that he knew he ought to be using his powers for something worthwhile.

As he left the History classroom half an hour later, though, Harry changed his mind about feeling sorry for having banished Wilkins’ pencil during class - the bully deserved everything he got and more. In the middle of the corridor, with boys walking all around, yet refusing to intervene, Todd Wilkins was holding an eleven-year-old high in the air by his collar. The small boy wheezed and kicked his legs, trying to get enough of a breath to call for help, but it was no use. Plenty of people could see what was happening, and nobody was making any sort of move to stop it.

“Hand it over,� Wilkins demanded. “I know your precious mummy sent you a ten pound note today, so just give it here and nobody gets hurt.�

Enraged at the injustice of the situation, Harry pointed at the sleeve of Wilkins’ coat and whispered, “Incendio!� Flames erupted across the other boy’s arm as shouts of surprise and horror - mixed with several expletives - filled the corridor. Wilkins dropped the boy and tore the coat from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor and stomping on it to smother the flames. The fire was out within seconds, and Harry - along with the small boy whom Wilkins had been trying to rob - slipped inconspicuously into the crowd of students who were heading to supper.

Supper that evening was a slow, unappetizing affair, as always, and Harry retired to his room early. It surprised him that the staff still hadn’t moved him back in with the other boys, although quite honestly he was glad for the security that his cell provided. Had he been unable to leave at will, as the staff believed, he probably would have hated the arrangement. As things really stood, however, he rather liked it.

Just as he had every evening since Hassseth’s return from hibernation, Harry finished his homework quickly (and rather sloppily), and then chatted with the small snake in between sets of his nightly workout. Although his muscles had long since recovered from the atrophy that came as a result of spending so much time in a hospital bed at the end of the previous term, he had grown accustomed to the exercises, and so continued doing them. Tonight, however, Harry finished his workout much more quickly than usual, and settled down on the floor to talk with his serpentine friend.

After chatting for some time about the uselessness of school and the difficulties of life as a snake in close proximity with humans, Hassseth inquired, “What’s troubling you, Harry?� She curled her body into a tight coil and raised her head up in the air so that she would be able to look him in the eye.

“Nothing,� Harry answered, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “Why?�

Hassseth suddenly whipped her head around to the right, flicking her forked tongue rapidly in and out of her mouth.

“Maybe I should be asking what’s troubling you,� Harry added.

“I smell a rat,� hissed the snake. “I’m hungry.�

Harry laughed softly, earning him a look of reproach from his friend. “Sorry,� he said quickly, “it’s just that, when a human says, ‘I smell a rat,’ it means they think something dodgy’s going on, or there’s somebody untrustworthy about. I’m not laughing at you being hungry, I promise.�

Hassseth nodded. “I’ll go hunting after you head out for the night,� she said softly. “But first, I want you to tell me what’s troubling you.�

Harry shrugged and sank even lower against the stone wall. “I sent a letter to somebody named Ron the other day. I tied it to Hedwig’s leg, and sent her off with it. I think maybe I’m going insane, doing something like that.�

The snake looked at him for a long moment with those glittering, lidless eyes before nodding slowly and saying, “I have heard of humans using birds to communicate. Why would that make you insane?�

“Well, it’s just that- I don’t even know who Ron is. I found a letter from him at my aunt and uncle’s house over the Christmas holiday, and I got this crazy idea to write him. But what if... What if he turns out to be an idiot or something? I’m all excited to get a reply, but I have no idea if he’ll really write back or not.�

Hassseth gave a soft, sympathetic hiss. “Don’t fret, dear. Go and see if he’s written you. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?�

“Is it late enough already?� Harry asked, checking his watch. Sure enough, the time had flown by as he talked with his friend, and it was already half an hour past curfew. Harry nodded resolutely and got to his feet. “Thanks, Hassseth,� he said. “Good luck with the hunting.�

The snake nodded and said, “Say hello to Tyler for me.� Then, as an afterthought, she added, “And the bird,� and slithered into a crack in the stone wall as Harry unlocked the door and headed outside.

The first thing Harry noticed as he slipped quietly through the large front doors of the school was Tyler jumping up and down under Hedwig’s tree, and whispering frantically. Smiling to himself, Harry raised his hand and magically caught the smaller boy in mid-jump, suspending him in the air.

After only a moment, Tyler called, “Hi, Harry. You can put me down now.�

Harry obliged, laughing quietly. “I was hoping to scare you,� he admitted. “I guess that’s not that easy.�

“Well, I was expecting you, and it’s not like anybody else around here can do magic,� Tyler reminded him. “Anyway, your ruddy bird’s got a big bundle tied to her leg, but she won’t come down for me to take it off.�

In response, Harry called out, “Come here, Hedwig,� and the owl soared down out of the branches and came to rest on his outstretched left arm. Tyler reached out to untie the small bundle from Hedwig’s leg, but she snapped her beak menacingly at his fingers, and he jumped back a pace.

“I think she’s trying to say that it’s for me,� Harry said with a laugh. Then, in a softer voice, he added, “Don’t worry, Hedwig; it’s just Tyler. He’s not going to steal anything,� and began awkwardly untying the parchment bundle with his free hand.

While Harry was occupied with the knot that was binding the parchment to the owl’s leg, Tyler asked, “How come you were so late tonight? I was about to go back inside and pound on your door when you finally showed up.�

“I was talking with Hassseth,� Harry said as he fiddled with the knot. “She said to tell you hello. And you, Hedwig.�

“I don’t know what you see in that thing,� Tyler grumbled as he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder. “Gives me the willies.�

“She’s my friend,� Harry said with a shrug. “She’s loyal and easy to talk to, and she gives good advice. I don’t know what you have against her.� The parchment finally came loose, and Hedwig fluttered up to perch on a low branch of the tree.

“She’s a snake!� Tyler exclaimed, as though he were making an irrefutable argument.

“That’s true,� Harry replied. “She’s also kind, and fun to be around, and she has a great sense of humor.�

“Yeah, and I suppose she’s a great kisser, too,� Tyler said sarcastically.

“She- What?� Harry asked, suddenly looking at his friend as though he had completely lost his mind. “Are we talking about the same Hassseth? The one that’s a snake?�

“I don’t know anyone else with a hiss for a name, do you?� Tyler raised his eyebrows and eyed Harry expectantly before continuing, “You sound like you want to bloody ask her out.�

Harry laughed. “I promise you, Tyler, we’re completely platonic. The girl I’d like to go out with is very different from Hassseth - well, she’s human anyway.�

Tyler’s eyebrows rose even further, almost disappearing into his light brown hair. “So, Potter’s got a love-interest,� he teased. “Is it anyone I know? It’s not Davies, is it?�

Harry shoved him and said, “Of course it’s not Davies! That would be wrong on so many levels.�

“Well, who is she then? What’s her name?�

“I don’t know,� Harry said quietly. When Tyler just continued to stare at him, he added, “I’m not even sure she exists. I’ve dreamed about her, but I don’t think that counts as proof.� Remembering the parchment in his hand, he began unfolding it and realized that there were two pages, rather than just one. Ron must be quite the writer, he thought.

“At least tell me what she looks like, Harry,� Tyler pleaded.

“Alright. I’m not sure exactly how tall she is, but she’s shorter than I am. She’s got the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, and I think I could stare into her brown eyes forever without getting bored.� He stopped suddenly and looked down at his shoes, feeling his face flush.

“Hair?� Tyler prompted.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know,� he said truthfully. “The only time I saw anything other than just her face, she was wearing a knit cap that completely hid her hair. For all I know, she could be bald.�

Tyler stifled a snort before asking, “So are you going to read that letter or not?�

“Oh! Right,� said Harry as he finished unfolding the parchment. Tyler moved to where he would be able to read over Harry’s shoulder, and their eyes ran down the page, taking in the scribbled words as quickly as they were able.

Dear Harry,

You’re lucky. I was going to send a Howler, but Dumbledore and Hermione wouldn’t let me. All I can say is, What in the (at this point, Ron had written something very offensive) is the matter with you? You disappeared ten months ago, and all you could think to write was, “I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner�? Why the (another expletive) didn’t you tell us where you are, so we can come and get you? And what’s all this rubbish about school going okay? You know bloody well that you go to school here with us, so what in Merlin’s name are you on about?

To answer your question, things are going fine ‘on my end,’ other than the fact that I’m trying to figure out why my best mate has been missing for almost a year, and why he’s acting like such a complete prat!

Write back soon, or else.

Ron

“Well, he sounds nice,� Tyler observed.

“Yeah,� Harry mused. “He’s obviously really angry about me ‘disappearing.’ But I don’t even know where I’m supposed to have disappeared from.�

“You’ve got a few clues now, though, don’t you? I mean, he did say you were best mates, so that’s something. And, apparently, you used to go to school wherever he is, not here at St. Brutus’s. That would explain why nobody really remembers you.�

“True,� Harry muttered, still examining the letter. “What about the part where he says, ‘what in Merlin’s name...’?�

“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?� Tyler said matter-of-factly. “He’s a witch - er, wizard - too. Merlin must be really important to wizards; that’s why you thought he was the center of the Camelot Legends back at the beginning of the year. What’s on the second page?�

“Oh! I forgot there were two pages,� said Harry. He pulled the second sheet of parchment to the front, and began to read.

Dear Harry,

I’m going to try and be reasonable, since I know Ron is probably trying to figure out how to make his letter hex you. I’m sure you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, though - it’s just his way of trying to express that he misses you and is worried about you. I realize you’re probably under a lot of stress and everything, but you do need to understand the kinds of problems that have been caused by your disappearance.

The day we first discovered you were missing, everyone was distraught - especially Mrs. Weasley. She fussed and cried, and wouldn’t let any of us out of her sight. It was a nightmare even trying to get her to let me go home to see my parents. The Order has had to spend most of its time and energy searching for you, meaning that other things - like intelligence-gathering - have had to be neglected. On top of all, that, everyone you know has been affected emotionally - I know of at least three couples that broke up as a direct result of your disappearance: Susan and Terry, Ginny and Dean (actually, Ron was really happy about that breakup), and Seamus and Padma.

I’m sorry, Harry, I just re-read that last paragraph, and it sounds like I’m ranting at you. I really didn’t mean to do that. I just wanted to make sure you know we all care about you and want you to come back. Please, just tell us where you are so that someone can come and get you. Write back soon.

Love from,

Hermione

As soon as he finished reading the letter, Tyler said, “Now I know they’re wizards. Look, it says Ron was trying to figure out a way to make his letter hex you. Nobody but witches and wizards would write something like that.�

“That’s beside the point,� said Harry. “What I want to know is what all this other stuff is about. Who are these people who were so distraught about my disappearance? What’s this ‘Order’ that’s been searching for me, and yet hasn’t been able to find me at home or at school?�

“I don’t know, mate,� Tyler replied as they headed back inside, “but I doubt you’ll get any answers without telling them you’ve lost your memory. Do you trust them enough to do that?�

Harry shrugged as he pushed the door shut. “I don’t know,� he muttered. “I don’t know.�

---

For the next several weeks, Hedwig had very little time to do anything other than fly back and forth between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, delivering letters.

Dear Ron,

I realize you’re angry with me, but I need you to hear me out. You’re the only one on the outside that I feel like I can trust, so I’m going to have to ask you to keep this quiet. I’ve lost my memory. I can’t remember anything from the time I was ten until the beginning of this past summer holiday. That’s why my last letter was so vague: I honestly don’t remember who you are. Sorry.

The weird thing is, I keep having these dreams that turn out to be real - that’s how I found out about you. During the Christmas holiday, I dreamed about hiding something under a floorboard in my cousin’s second bedroom, so I went upstairs to look, and I found an old letter from you. The letter said to send a reply with Hedwig, and I only just found out that Hedwig is the snowy owl that’s been hanging around me for the past several months. That’s why I haven’t written before.

I’m sure you understand why I can’t tell you where I am just yet: I can’t trust anybody. I literally had somebody try to kill me three times last term, and I can’t afford to take any chances. If I’m satisfied with your answers to my questions, then we’ll go from there.

Questions:

1. Who are you, and how do we know each other?


2. Who am I?


3. Who are Hermione and Dumbledore? (Are those even real names, or are they some sort of codenames?)


4. Have you ever made weird stuff happen? (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you haven’t.)


5. What’s a “Muggle�?

Write back soon,

Harry

P.S. What’s a Howler?

* * * * *
Dear Harry,

I can’t believe how much time I just wasted writing my reply. I wrote about three feet about who you are and the things we’ve done together - way more than I’ve ever written for a class - but Dumbledore made me promise not to send it. He said that giving you too much information like that might do more damage to your memory and make it harder for you to ever remember anything. I can answer specific questions about things you’ve started to remember, but I can’t just tell you everything the way I wanted to. He did say that I might get to tell you later, though - after we’re sure why you lost your memory in the first place.

Anyway, I can’t believe your memory’s gone! It’s crazy! I take back everything I said in my last letter about you being a prat. Really, I just want my best mate back.

Now to answer your questions:
1) I’m Ron Weasley. We met at King’s Cross Station when we were getting ready to board the train to school for our first year. I live in Ottery St. Catchpole, and I have five older brothers (Bill, Charlie, Percy the Prat, Fred, and George), and a younger sister named Ginny. Fred and George are twins, and they’re the pranksters of the family.

2) You’re Harry Potter. Your parents were James and Lily Potter, but they died when you were about a year old. You were “raised� by your aunt and uncle, but all they really did was lock you in the cupboard under the stairs and ignore you. I’m not really sure what you’re looking for with this one. Sorry.

3) Hermione and Dumbledore are both real names. I had to “accidentally� drop a big blob of ink onto your last letter so that Hermione wouldn’t be able to read that part - she can be a little touchy about that sort of thing sometimes. Anyway, Hermione Granger is our other best friend. She’s in the same year as us in school, and she’s by far the smartest person around. She can be a bit of a bookworm, but she’s helped us break the rules plenty of times, too. Albus Dumbledore is our Headmaster.

4) If by “weird stuff� you mean magic, then yes. Hermione’s a witch, and I’m a wizard, just like you. She told me that you might be worried that we’d turn our backs on you if we found out you could do magic. Don’t worry about it - I’d be worried if you couldn’t do any.

5) A Muggle is what witches and wizards call somebody who can’t do magic.

I hope those answers are good enough. If you remember any more of your dreams, you could write about them, and we could try and fill in the gaps for you.

Can you tell us where you are yet? If somebody tried to kill you three times, then we really need to get you out of there.

Oh, I almost forgot. A Howler is a really nasty letter you send when you want to tell somebody off. It comes in a red envelope, and it explodes if you don’t open it right away. Once it’s open, you don’t have to read it because it screams at you in a magically amplified voice. Now you know why I wanted to send you one when I thought you were just being a prat, and why Dumbledore and Hermione told me not to.

Bye-

Ron

* * * * *
Dear Ron,

I’m not sure what I was looking for when I asked you who I was either, so don’t worry about it. I’m not sure I like this whole guessing game where I have to ask specific questions to find out about myself, but it doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it? For now, just tell me if these dreams mean anything to you. I’m afraid some of them are pretty short.

1) I’m with the Dursleys in a shack by the sea. There’s a great pounding at the door that knocks it off its hinges. In the doorway, there’s a giant.

2) I’m watching a man take a turban off of his head. When he finishes, there’s a face growing out of the back of his head, and the scar on my forehead burns. (I’m not sure if you know this or not, but I have a scar on my forehead that’s shaped like a lightning bolt. My aunt hates it, which is probably why I’ve always thought it was sort of cool.)

3) I’m running away from someone or something. It’s dark, and I’m running down long corridors and stone staircases with two other boys and a girl with really bushy hair. We end up trapped outside a large door. The girl unlocks it by whispering, “Alohomora,� and we escape inside.

Sorry, but I still don’t feel comfortable telling anyone where I am. And don’t worry, the bloke that kept trying to kill me got chucked out and sent to a youth prison.

Take care,

Harry

* * * * *
Dear Harry,

Not that I’m not flattered that you chose me to write to, but you might want to try writing to Hermione - she’s a much better writer than I am, and she includes a lot more details. Just something to think about. As far as the dreams, here goes:

1) I’m not sure, but I talked to Hagrid and I think this is when you first found out you were a wizard. He said the Dursleys were trying to hide so you wouldn’t get the letter telling you all about it, so he finally went to deliver the letter personally. Oh, I almost forgot you don’t know who Hagrid is. He’s the Gamekeeper here at Hogwarts (that’s our school), and he’s a teacher too. He’s not really a giant, though. He’s just half-giant.

2) This happened in first year. I’m not sure how much I should tell you about this one, because it gets really complicated really fast. The man with the turban was Professor Quirrell - he was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year. Ironically, he was being possessed by a dark wizard - that’s whose face you saw sticking out of the back of his head. I know all about your scar - actually, everyone does. It always hurts when that particular dark wizard is around.

3) This was also in first year. You, me, Hermione, and Neville (he’s in our same dorm) were out after curfew, and we were running away from Filch (the caretaker). We ended up outside that locked door, and Hermione used magic to unlock it.

I really wish you’d tell us where you are so we could come get you out of there. Think about it.

Until next time,

Ron

As Harry read the letter, he felt a rush of excitement; he did know Hermione after all. She was the bushy-haired girl who had taught him so many useful spells. Perhaps he should take Ron’s advice and write to her next.

* * * * *
Dear Hermione,

I’m sorry for not trusting you enough to write before. Like I told Ron, I have to be careful because it’s hard to be sure who’s really my friend and who’s just trying to get close enough to cause me harm.

I guess I’ll just write a few more of the dreams that I can remember.

1) I’m in the middle of a really dense and foggy forest. After a bit, I hear a long, gasping breath that just doesn’t sound natural. I hold up a polished wooden stick and point it at the sound. Finally, I see a tall, hooded figure coming at me, but it’s like it’s just gliding through the air. My knees go weak, and my ears start ringing. Then I hear a woman scream, “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!� After that, there’s a flash of green light and cold, high-pitched laughter.

2) I’m being chased by a heat-seeking missile while flying through the air on a broomstick.

3) A pale man with long, greasy black hair and a black robe is glaring at me over a bubbling cauldron.

4) I’m sitting at a small desk, writing the words ‘I must not tell lies’ over and over again with a long, black quill. Each time I write, the words are carved into the back of my hand, and I’m pretty sure the ink is really my own blood. (I really have scars on the back of my hand that spell out ‘I must not tell lies.’)

That’s all the dreams I can think of for right now.

Harry

* * * * *
Dear Harry,

I’m so glad you finally realized that you know me! I’ve been helping Ron with his letters, of course, but it’s not the same as being able to write to you personally. I do hope that everything is going well with you, wherever you are.

So far, we’ve managed to keep the fact that we’re corresponding with you a secret. The only ones who know are you, me, Ron, and Professor Dumbledore. I think Ginny - that’s Ron’s sister, if you didn’t know - might suspect something because she saw Hedwig flying out of my dormitory window after dropping off your letter, but she hasn’t said anything outright.

Now, on to your dreams:

1) I don’t know if this exact thing happened before, but it sounds a bit like what happened in our third year when you were attacked by dementors. Dementors are just like what you described, and they suck all of the happiness out of you and make you relive your worst memories. The stick you pointed at it was your magic wand. We use wands to cast spells and things.

(As she wrote, Hermione deliberately avoided mentioning that the memory Harry had been forced to relive had been his mother’s murder at the hand of Lord Voldemort. Somehow, she didn’t feel that a letter was the appropriate way to reveal that sort of information.)

2) The heat-seeking missile is probably really a Bludger. I’d be willing to bet that this dream is about a Quidditch match in our second year, when you spent the entire match being chased by a mad Bludger. You see, Quidditch is a sport that wizards play on broomsticks. It’s sort of complicated to explain, although I’m sure Ron would be happy to outline every last detail and nuance of the game if you would like. I’ll just give you the basics that you need to understand your dream. In Quidditch, there are four balls: the Quaffle, which is used for scoring goals; the Golden Snitch, which the Seeker (you) has to catch in order to end the game; and the Bludgers, which the Beaters hit at the other team’s players to try to knock them off their brooms. During this particular Quidditch match, one of the Bludgers had been bewitched to follow you around and spend the entire game trying to knock you off your broom. Obviously, you made it out okay, but that’s another story.

3) The pale man is Professor Snape, the Potions Master. I imagine that’s the reason you dreamed about him with a cauldron.

4) This dream is about your detentions with Professor Umbridge, the interloper from the Ministry of Magic who came to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts - or, rather, to prevent us learning defense - in our fifth year. She claimed you were lying because you tried to tell everyone that a certain dark wizard (the one Ron told you about that makes your scar burn whenever he’s nearby) had returned. You weren’t lying, by the way. Anyway, Umbridge gave you detention for ‘lying’ about this dark wizard being back, and your punishment was writing ‘I must not tell lies’ with her Blood Quill. She made you do it so many times that you ended up with scars.

Harry, are our responses helping you remember anything at all, or are we just wasting all of our time? Please tell us where you are so that we can get together and talk properly. We need to figure out what happened to your memory. Write back soon.

Love from,

Hermione

P.S. Be careful, Harry. I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but the boy that got sent to youth prison isn’t the only one who wants you dead. There’s a group of dark wizards who are after you too.

As Harry read the end of Hermione’s letter, a sense of foreboding settled over him. If dark wizards were looking for him, how long would it take for them to learn he was at St. Brutus’s?

* * * * *
Harry sucked on the end of his pen as he contemplated what to write. So far, he hadn’t mentioned his most frequent dream - the face of the mystery girl - mainly because he didn’t know how to bring it up. It wasn’t as if he could really describe her, anyway; he had learned that much from trying to describe her to Tyler. But he was desperately curious about this girl, and wanted very much to know if she was real and, if so, who she was. Finally resolving to ask Ron (because he had an inkling that Hermione might be the girl in question, and asking her could lead to awkwardness), Harry began to write.

Dear Ron,

There’s one more dream I want to ask about, but it’s sort of awkward. I keep dreaming about this girl, but all I ever see is her face. I know she’s shorter than me (not much help, I know), and she has brown eyes and is very pretty, but other than that, nothing. I’ve never even seen her hair. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I think I might fancy her, you know? What I wanted to know is, did I have a girlfriend before I lost my memory? If I did, could you possibly find a way to send me a picture of her? This has really been bothering me lately, especially since I’m not even sure this girl is real.

I also wanted to tell you that I’m at -

Harry stopped. He had been about to write that he was at St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, but he suddenly found himself unable to continue writing. He tried again.

I’m in -

It was no good. For some reason, he physically could not write the words.

I’m sorry, Ron, I can’t tell you where I am.

Please respond soon,

Harry

* * * * *
Dear Harry,

I don’t mind telling you that your last letter made me feel a bit awkward. Hermione’s the one who talks about relationships and stuff. I’m the one who talks about Quidditch. And food. But I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to ask a girl about that sort of thing - she’d probably want to analyze everything, while I’ll just tell you what you want to know. Actually, I’m sort of glad we’re doing this by post, because I don’t know that I’d be able to have this conversation in person.

Brown eyes and pretty doesn’t really narrow it down much. I mean, I think we can safely eliminate Marietta Edgecombe and Eloise Midgen, but that still leaves plenty of other girls. To answer your question, you did have a girlfriend last year - her name is Cho Chang - but you ‘parted on bad terms,’ as Hermione would say. Basically, you had a huge row near the end of the year, and you never spoke to each other again.

You didn’t mention that the girl in your dream looked Asian at all, though, so I doubt it was Cho anyway. Then again, maybe you just didn’t think about it. I’ll send a picture of her with this letter.

I really wish you’d just tell us where you are so we could come and get you.

Take care,

Ron

As soon as he finished reading the letter, Harry looked up at Hedwig, who was watching him from her perch on a low branch, and noticed the photograph tied to her left leg. He had been in such a hurry to get the letter off of her right leg that he had completely missed it before. After carefully untying it, he flattened out the picture and jumped in shock as the girl smiled shyly at him and waved.

“What is it?� Tyler asked. “Is it her?�

“No,� Harry replied, “but look!� He showed the moving picture to Tyler, who just gaped at it.

“Do you think she can talk?� Tyler asked.

“I don’t know,� Harry said. Addressing the photo, he tentatively asked, “Er, Cho? Can you talk?� The girl simply continued waving. “I guess not,� Harry concluded.

“Any idea who your dream girl is, then?� asked Tyler.

“You’re awfully interested in this, Tyler. I’m not sure that’s healthy.�

“Lay off; I just want to make sure you’re interested in other humans, that’s all.�

Harry punched him lightly on the arm before shrugging and saying, “I kind of think it might be Hermione, but I can’t be sure. And I can’t ask about that because it would be too weird. I mean, she was one of my best friends, and she probably will be again someday. I can’t just go asking if she’s the girl I’ve been dreaming about.�

“Good point,� Tyler observed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until you see her. It should be easy to tell at that point.�

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,� Harry muttered dejectedly as he turned to head indoors for the night.

“Harry?� Tyler called after him.

Harry stopped and turned around. “What?�

“Do you want that photo?�

Harry thought for a second before responding, “Not particularly. It doesn’t sound like I’ll ever be getting back together with her, and if this girl I’ve been dreaming about is real, I imagine I’ll be focused on trying to get her to notice me. Why?�

“Er, would you mind if- Could I have it then?� Tyler asked, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I mean, she is really pretty. Plus, it’s way cool to have a photo that moves.�

Harry shrugged. “Sure, mate,� he said with a laugh as he handed over the picture. It appeared that Cho Chang had just found herself a Muggle admirer.

---

The evening of May 29th began just like any other. Harry choked down his supper in the dining hall and then headed to his room to rush through his homework, do his nightly exercises, and talk with Hassseth. In the middle of an explanation of how difficult it is for an adder to produce its venom, Hassseth suddenly stopped speaking and stared intently at a large crack in the wall, her tongue flicking in and out of her mouth at a dizzying rate.

“Wha-?� Harry’s question was cut off by a sharp hiss from the snake.

“I smell a rat,� Hassseth whispered.

“Of course you smell a rat,� Harry whispered back. “You smell lots of rats; this place is full of them.�

The serpent slowly shook her head. “This time I mean it in the human way, as well as my own. Rumor has it that there is a strange rat about - less trustworthy than most rats. Evil, even. They say that his right front paw is silver, and that he searches for the boy called Harry Potter. Be alert. No good can come of this.�

Harry laughed nervously. “But it’s just a rat. What can it do, unless it’s carrying the plague and plans to infect me?�

“Do not underestimate the rat, Harry,� Hassseth cautioned. “He may be more deadly than you realize.� After a short pause, she added, “Wait here,� and slithered into a nearby crack in the wall.

Five minutes went by, during which Harry sat in tense silence. In spite of his insistence that no rat could harm him, he couldn’t help being put on edge by Hassseth’s warning.

Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and shifted his position on the floor to be able to see it better. The pointed nose of a rat was protruding from the large crack in the wall that Hassseth had been staring at only a few minutes ago. Cautiously, never ceasing to sniff the air, the rat emerged from the crack. As it stepped forward, Harry’s breath caught in his throat; the rat’s right front paw was a metallic silver color, almost as if it had been dipped into a bath of molten silver and hadn’t yet had a chance to dry.

As the rat crept closer, Harry’s body tensed and his heart began to pound. Suddenly, quick as lightning, Hassseth shot from her hiding place hissing a battle cry, and sank her long, white fangs into the center of the creature’s back. Harry watched in morbid fascination as the rat, squealing in pain, began to swell - slowly at first, and then more rapidly. Initially, the swelling only caused Hassseth’s jaw to unhinge, but it was soon necessary for her to release her hold, although she kept her fangs buried in the rat’s flesh. Harry gasped and scrambled backward as, before his eyes, the rat transformed into a short, balding man in a dark gray robe, who bore a remarkable resemblance to the rat he had been only seconds before. The rat’s squeals of pain changed to a scream.

Harry watched, frozen in horror, as the man reached back and closed his silver hand around Hassseth’s diamond-shaped head, crushing it with the force of his grip.

“No!� Harry shouted, finally springing to his feet, but he knew it was too late - the rat-man was already yanking the small serpent’s fangs from his lower back and flinging her lifeless body against the wall. Harry winced as his friend hit the floor in a twisted heap.

“Now, Harry, you will come with me,� the little man said in a somewhat squeaky voice. “My master is looking forward to seeing you again.� As he spoke, he drew a thin, polished stick from an inside pocket of his robe. Harry recognized it at once as a magic wand and, for the first time he could remember, he felt that he was at a disadvantage for not having one as well.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,� Harry growled. His initial wariness at the sight of the wand was quickly giving way to rage. This little man had killed Hassseth, and he was going to pay. “You’re going to die here and now,� Harry spat. He stood with his feet apart and his knees slightly bent, waiting for the short wizard to make the first move.

Extending his wand confidently, the rat-wizard said, “Stupefy.�

Harry’s hands shot forward as he yelled, “Protego!� conjuring an invisible shield and deflecting the attack.

The wizard paused for a moment - clearly he had not expected this - but then he began to fire a barrage of spells with such rapidity that it was all Harry could do to keep his shield in place.

Finally realizing that he was getting nowhere, Harry dove to his left, shouting, “Stupefy!� as he pointed at his enemy with both hands. The small wizard barely managed to erect a shield in time, and the force of Harry’s spell caused him to stumble backward.

As soon as Harry got back to his feet, the rat-wizard spat, “Crucio!� Instinctively, Harry dove to his right to avoid the curse, somehow knowing that there would be no blocking that one.

“Incendio!� Harry shouted. The spell glanced off of the rat-wizard’s shield, but still managed to ignite the hem of his robes. As he stamped out the flames, he suddenly twisted sideways and cried out in pain. He staggered to his right and fell against the wall, clutching it for support.

“Come with me, Harry,� the rat-wizard pleaded in a voice completely devoid of its former confidence. “I don’t want to hurt you. Imperio!�

There was no need to dodge; whatever it was, the spell went wide. “You killed Hassseth,� Harry said accusingly, his voice shaking with anger. “And you know what? You killed yourself, too. You squeezed all of her stored venom into your veins, you stupid-�

“Reducto!� shouted the rat-wizard.

Harry sidestepped the curse. “Don’t want to hurt me?� Harry asked incredulously. “I’m not stupid, rat; I know what that spell does.�

“Diffindo!� yelped the rat-wizard.

Harry ducked and retaliated by yelling, “Reducto!� while aiming at the other man’s knees. There was a sickening crunch as the bones splintered, and the rat-wizard collapsed to the ground, convulsing. He vomited, and his shaking intensified. Harry tried to look away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the revolting scene before him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the rat-wizard’s convulsions ceased and he lay still. Warily, Harry whispered, “Accio,� and the rat-wizard’s wand flew into his hand. His own lack of a wand had turned out not to be a liability after all. Nevertheless, he slipped the wand into the back pocket of his jeans and watched the rat-wizard’s still body for signs of life. His chest neither rose nor fell. Cautiously, Harry approached him and placed two fingers on the fallen man’s throat, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Hassseth’s venom had done its work.

A sudden pounding on the door caused Harry to leap to his feet, his frazzled senses on alert. After preparing himself to curse the caller if necessary, he asked, in the calmest voice he could muster, “Who’s there?�

“It’s Tyler,� came the reply. “Open up, Harry; I’ve been waiting outside for ages.�

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry muttered, “Alohomora,� and the lock clicked open.

Tyler pushed the door open and froze. “What happened?� he asked, his eyes wide in shock.

Harry sank to the floor and leaned back against the cold stone wall. As tears finally began streaming down his face, he explained what had transpired as best he could.

When he had finished, Tyler exclaimed, “You’ve got to get out of here!�

“What? Why?�

“Two reasons,� answered Tyler. “First, your friend Hermione said that a group of dark wizards were after you, not just one. There could easily be more of them about, and, sadly, you won’t have your snake friend to help you a second time. Second, there’s a dead man in your room. Trust me; you do not want to be here when the guard comes around in the morning.�

“Where should I go?� Harry asked, the logic of his friend’s suggestion succeeding at cutting through the haze of anger, revulsion and grief.

“Send Hedwig to Ron and Hermione and find out where they are. If you can’t tell them where you are so they can come to you, then go to them instead.� Harry didn’t move. “Now! Go!� Tyler insisted.

“But what about you?�

Tyler shrugged. “I can take care of myself. Besides, I’d never fit in with a bunch of wizards. I belong here, with the other pickpockets and petty-thieves,� he said with a wry smile. “Promise to keep in touch, though. If nothing else, I want to know if you ever find your dream girl.�

Harry chuckled half-heartedly. “I promise.� Getting to his feet, he emptied his schoolbag of everything but his letters, an empty notebook for paper, and several pens and pencils. Next, he stuffed most of his clothing into the space that had previously been occupied by books. Finally, he took an old shirt and reverently wrapped it around Hassseth’s lifeless body. He carefully placed her into the top of the bag before closing the zipper.

“I’ll give her a proper burial when I get wherever it is I’m going,� he said softly.

“I’m sorry, Harry,� Tyler whispered. “I know I said a lot of bad things about her, but she really was all right. She sacrificed herself for you the same way you did for me that night you got beat senseless. I never really thanked you for that... so, thanks.�

“What are friends for?� Harry whispered back. Then he heaved his school bag onto his back and headed out the door, leaving it wide open for the morning guard to find.

A minute later, as Harry strode past Hedwig’s tree on his way to the front gates, he whistled. The snowy owl came soaring down out of the branches to land on his arm, and he whispered, “We’re going away, girl. Come with me?� Hedwig hooted an affirmative reply and took to the sky once again, presumably to meet back up with him at a later time.

Finally, as he stood poised to unlock the front gates of the school, Harry told Tyler, “Promise me you’ll go straight back to bed. I don’t want anyone connecting you with anything that happened tonight.�

Tyler held up his hands in mock-surrender. “I promise,� he said. “I don’t want anyone connecting me with anything that happened tonight either.�

Harry nodded and, on a sudden impulse, gave his friend an awkward hug. Then he pointed to the lock, whispered, “Alohomora,� and stepped out into the night.

Glancing around, Harry’s eyes fell on something that seemed extraordinarily out of place: there was a broomstick leaning against the wall, just to the right of the gate. Unlike all of the broomsticks Harry had experience with, however, this one had a contoured handle that almost seemed to have been designed for riding on. He wondered briefly whether this broom had belonged to the rat-wizard, but a sudden sound to his left stole his attention. His head snapped around and he ducked just as a jet of red light flew over his head. At least three dark, hooded figures were silhouetted against the slightly lighter sky.

With no time to think, Harry threw two Stunners in the general direction of his attackers and leapt astride the broom, praying that this time the broom would fly. It did. He soared upward, spinning and rolling to avoid the curses that were coming from the ground as though he had flown every day of his life. The feeling of absolute freedom was exhilarating, and he felt the broom and his body become one as it responded flawlessly to his every command. He shot straight up in the air, and then twisted around to see that one of the cloaked figures had mounted another broom and was giving chase. The others remained on the ground, firing curses that Harry dodged almost without even realizing it. As he sped toward the other broomstick, its rider sent a jet of red light directly at Harry’s chest. Harry rolled to his left, flying upside down for a few seconds but not changing course, and shouted, “Abigo!�

The other broomstick did not respond to his spell; the wizard riding it, however, did. His hand was ripped from the handle, and he was thrown high into the air. As he fell, the man somehow maintained the presence of mind necessary to Summon his broomstick, and he swept back up at Harry after falling to within ten feet of the ground. Harry swore under his breath and charged his opponent once more.

The next curse to come Harry’s way resembled a dark purple flame, and he had to turn sharply to avoid being hit. The other wizard followed suit, and Harry realized his mistake: he had allowed his opponent to get behind him. He pulled up hard on the handle of his broomstick and went into a tight roll, reversing his direction in less than a second. As he shot past his astonished adversary, he hissed, “Incendio,� setting the twigs of the other broom’s tail ablaze.

As Harry came around for another pass, he felt a sudden heat on his back. Twisting around, he saw, to his horror, that the twigs of his own broom were burning as well. Not knowing a spell for dousing fires, he did the only thing he could think of: he made a slashing motion with his hand while saying, “Diffindo,� severing the burning portions from the rest of his broom’s tail. Immediately, he noticed that the broom’s response seemed more sluggish than it had been a moment ago.

Using both hands to force the damaged broom to fly in a straight line, he shot toward the other flyer. A jet of red light burst from the other wizard’s wand, and Harry swerved to his right to avoid being hit. As they passed in midair, he pointed to a spot on the other broom’s handle just behind the rider, and shouted, “Diffindo!� The flaming tail immediately began plummeting toward the ground, while the rider fought desperately to control his uncontrollable broom handle. Harry hovered for a moment as the runaway broomstick jerked and bucked, spiraling downward faster and faster, and finally collided with the outer wall of St. Brutus’s. He winced at the sound of the crash, but immediately had to roll to his left to avoid being hit by a spell sent from the ground. In all the excitement, he had completely forgotten that there were at least two enemy wizards still down there. Pulling his broom around to face east, Harry took off like a rocket. The last thing he heard before everything was drowned out by the sound of the wind rushing by his ears was Tyler’s excited shout of, “Go Harry!�

For several minutes, Harry kept glancing backward over his shoulder, half-expecting to see a group of wizards on broomsticks in hot pursuit, but it soon became apparent that the only other flying broomstick at St. Brutus’s was the one he had destroyed. The other wizards must have used a different method of travel. On and on he flew, not even bothering to slow down or change course when he flew into a rainstorm. Finally, when he was so tired that he was afraid he would fall asleep on the broom if he didn’t stop and rest, he began looking for a place to spend the night. Spotting a small thicket of trees near an open field, he landed and - still wearing his schoolbag and clutching the broom handle - fell fast asleep on the muddy ground just as the dawn began peeking over the horizon.

---

A/N: It’s strange, really. I hate snakes in real life, but it really hurt me to let Wormtail kill Hassseth (and if you didn’t know it was Wormtail, then shame on you). Both of the deaths in this chapter were planned from the very beginning, though - that’s just the way it goes sometimes.

---

When Harry Potter awoke, he was startled to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin - he had never slept anywhere where the sun’s rays could reach. After opening his eyes and realizing where he was, he decided that he liked the feeling. It was definitely much nicer than waking up in a damp dungeon or a dusty cupboard under the stairs. As he sat up and looked around, the events of the previous night came crashing down on him, and he collapsed back onto the ground, a soft sob escaping his throat. Hassseth was gone. She may have been a snake, but she was more human to Harry than most people he knew. He lay there among the trees, motionless, for a long time, just allowing the sorrow to envelop him.

It was late afternoon when Harry was startled back into awareness of his surroundings by a loud hoot coming from the tree over his head. Looking up, he saw Hedwig perched on the branch, watching him expectantly. He finally stood, stretching his stiff joints and wiping his eyes. It was true that Hassseth was gone, but she had died so that he would be able to escape and lead a happy life, not wallow in sorrow and self-pity.

He opened his schoolbag and, being careful to disturb Hassseth’s body as little as possible, withdrew his notebook and a pen. Then he began to write.

Dear Ron,

I was attacked by wizards last night. I escaped on a stolen broomstick, but I don’t know where to go. I can’t go back to where I was, and there’s no way I’m going to the Dursleys’, but I’ve got no place else. I wish I could tell you where I’ve been, but I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to; I really can’t. I tried to tell you and Hermione where I was in my last letter, but I couldn’t write it. Is that normal?

Anyway, I still can’t tell you where I am, but now it’s because I don’t know myself. I’m hiding out in a little grove of trees until it gets dark, because I really don’t fancy having a bunch of Muggles see me flying around on a broomstick, and walking down the street carrying a broom that’s obviously meant for riding on would be almost as big of a giveaway.

Please tell me where you are so I can come find you, since the opposite doesn’t seem to be possible. And please hurry - I don’t know if the wizards that came after me last night have figured out a way to track me or not, and I’d like to be gone at nightfall just in case.

See you soon,

Harry.

For several hours after sending the letter, Harry waited impatiently. He sat, stood, paced, and even climbed a tree to scan the sky for Hedwig more times than he cared to count. Once, he sat down with the broomstick - which was now caked in mud - to try and repair its tail, but after only two minutes it was clear that it would take more expertise than he possessed. Finally, just as night was falling, Harry’s pacing was interrupted by a low hoot overhead.

“Hedwig!� he exclaimed. “I was starting to worry. Okay, I’ve been worried ever since you left, but that’s beside the point. Have you got a response for me?�

The owl fluttered down to rest on a low branch and held out her right leg for Harry to untie the letter. He tore off the string and hurriedly unfolded the parchment, reading quickly.

Harry-

You were attacked? How did you manage to steal a broomstick? Sorry we didn’t understand that you really couldn’t tell us where you were. That’s really weird; I’ll tell Dumbledore about it as soon as I send off this letter.

It would be really hard for you to find Hogwarts on your own, even with directions, so it probably wouldn’t do much good to try and tell you how to get here. Not to mention the fact that you’d be mobbed as soon as you arrived - your disappearance was huge news, and nobody but us knows you’ve been in touch with anyone. It would probably be best if you just went to my house. I’ll owl Mum and tell her to expect you. Term ends soon anyway, so I’ll definitely see you when I come home, if not sooner.

The Burrow (that’s what we call our house) is outside Ottery St. Catchpole, on the River Otter. It’s a little way south of the town and it’s hidden by hills and trees, but if you’re flying you should be able to see the lights from the air. It’s the only house for miles, so you shouldn’t have much trouble spotting it.

(After this paragraph, Ron had drawn a very crude map of England, with the River Otter, Ottery St. Catchpole, and the Burrow labeled.)

Before I give this to Hedwig, I have to tell you what happened when she showed up with your letter. Somehow, she managed to get inside the castle and fly right into Transfiguration class. Well, McGonagall was furious when an owl interrupted her lesson to give me a letter, and she ripped it away before I even had a chance to open it. I think she was going to read it out loud to the class to try and embarrass me, but when she saw what it said she just got really pale and gave it back. Then she told me to leave and “take care of this right away.� So now I get out of Transfiguration and I didn’t even have to pretend to be sick. Thanks!

I know you’re in a hurry, so I’m going to send this off now. I hope everything’s still okay.

Take care of yourself,

Ron

Examining the map closely, Harry decided that he would need to fly south-southwest for some time before turning and heading almost directly west. After pocketing the letter and hoisting his bag onto his shoulders, he mounted his stolen broomstick and soared into the air with Hedwig at his side. Once he had reached what he deemed to be a safe height, he took the rat-wizard’s wand from his back pocket and laid it across his open palm.

“Point me,� he whispered. The wand spun around to point north. Making a mental note of the direction in which he would have to fly, Harry pocketed the wand and brought the broomstick around in a wide arc until he was facing more or less in the right direction. Then he shot forward as fast as the broom would carry him.

As the night wore on, Harry kept himself pressed flat against the handle of his broom. It was freezing cold at this altitude, and the jacket he was wearing didn’t seem to help; the wind just whipped right through it, stinging his flesh as it sapped the heat from his body. After several hours of flying, he reached the coastline and turned to follow it westward toward the River Otter. His hands and face were completely numb. The broomstick was traveling extremely fast, but it didn’t seem fast enough. He thought longingly of the fires he had conjured on the stone floor of his private cell at St. Brutus’s and the fleeting warmth they had provided. Then he thought of Hassseth, and his rage over her death warmed him as he felt his blood boil.

Finally, at around four in the morning, he saw the lights of a little village up ahead. He studied the nearby hills and the bend in the river, and felt hope rise up within him. This was the right place; it had to be. Stopping to hover over the town, he took Ron’s letter from his pocket and held it up close to his face. It was too dark to read. He pointed at the parchment with his left hand and said, “Lumos,� and a beam of light shot from his index finger, illuminating the page. After noting the location of the Burrow relative to the village, he muttered, “Nox,� and stuffed the letter back into his pocket.

Using the Four-Point Spell, he quickly determined his new heading and set off once again, this time just slightly west of south. He flew more slowly now, his eyes searching the ground for any sign of an isolated house on the ground below him. There was nothing but darkness. Had Ron’s map been wrong? No, that couldn’t be it. This was Ron’s house; he would know where it was.

Maybe it isn’t the right village after all, Harry thought as he circled around and began flying back toward the lights of the small town. He flew until he located an all-night petrol station, and then fell into a steep dive, landing out of sight behind the building. He leaned the broomstick against the metal siding and turned to walk around to the entrance. After only two steps, however, he hesitated. What if somebody found the broomstick while he was inside? If this wasn’t the right village - or even if it was - Harry was none too confident in his ability to find the Burrow on foot. On the other hand, he couldn’t exactly carry a broomstick that was obviously meant for flying into a place that was sure to be run by Muggles. Finally, crossing his fingers and hoping that nobody but him was crazy enough to be out this late, he strode into the petrol station.

Immediately, Harry’s nose was assaulted by the smell of microwaveable convenience food, and his stomach growled loudly. He wished he knew a spell for conjuring food - or money - but immediately pushed the thought away. Such wishes were useless, and standing here wasn’t going to put any food in his stomach. Cautiously, he approached the counter, where a bored-looking man in his early twenties sat on a stool, staring blankly at a small television. Harry cleared his throat, causing the man to look up.

“Excuse me,� Harry said, “but I was wondering... is this Ottery St. Catchpole?�

The man looked surprised, and he stared at Harry for a long moment before nodding very slowly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, well... thanks.� He began edging back toward the door as his stomach growled more loudly than before, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten since supper two days ago. Of course, he hadn’t really eaten since he was with the Dursleys for the Christmas holiday, but there was no time to think about that now. The man behind the counter turned back to his television, and Harry ran out the door and around to the back of the building.

The broomstick was still there, right where he had left it, and Harry felt a sense of relief as he grasped the mud-encrusted handle. Reluctantly, he took to the sky again. He loved flying, of course, but it was much warmer on the ground, and he had hoped to avoid the cold that began penetrating him the moment he rose above the housetops. Still, with no other alternative, he rose high into the blackened sky and shot toward the south once more.

This time, Harry tried to make his search more methodical as he zigzagged across the hilly terrain. According to the map, the Burrow should be right about here, yet the lights that Ron’s letter had promised would guide him were completely absent.

Light! Of course! If he couldn’t see any lights on the ground, perhaps it was just because Ron’s parents had forgotten to turn them on. Hastily, Harry pointed to the ground and said, “Lumos.� A narrow beam of light shot from his hand, illuminating the top of a tree at least a hundred feet below. He swept the light over the surrounding landscape, revealing a rather large apple orchard.

Harry swung his broom around, still sweeping his light over the ground below. To his right he saw the edge of the orchard, and a garden beyond it. As he flew slowly toward the garden, his light glinted off of something beyond it. His heart leapt as he raised his hand slightly, causing the light to shine on a large, rather lopsided-looking house. Dropping altitude, he circled toward the front door, where his light rested on a sign that read, THE BURROW.

“Nox,� Harry whispered as he dismounted. He breathed on his numb fingers and rubbed his hands together to try and give them a little warmth before knocking loudly on the front door.

After a few moments, there was a shuffling sound inside, and a man’s voice called out, “Who’s there?�

“Er- It’s Harry. Harry Potter.�

“Open the door, Arthur,� a woman’s voice whispered loudly on the other side of the door.

“How do we know you’re really Harry Potter?� the man, who Harry assumed was named Arthur, asked in a loud voice. As soon as he finished speaking, a light above Harry’s head illuminated the porch of the Burrow. Harry noted with surprise that the light was not electric, but rather a small, enclosed flame.

“Didn’t Ron write you to say I was coming?� Harry asked tentatively. Why weren’t they letting him in? The night was uncomfortably cool, and the exhaustion of going without food and flying for hours on end was beginning to take its toll.

“No,� answered the man named Arthur. “If you’re really Harry Potter, then tell me: how did my sons rescue you from your aunt and uncle’s house during the summer before your second year at Hogwarts?�

Harry’s mind raced; this man expected him to be able to answer a question about himself that only someone close to him would know. He tried to force himself to remember, but only succeeded in making his head throb.

“Look,� Harry called through the door, the exhaustion more evident than ever in his voice, “I really am Harry Potter, and I need you to let me in. I don’t know the answer to your question because I can’t remember anything that’s happened to me since I was ten. I was attacked by a group of wizards last night, and I’ve been on the run ever since. Ron wrote to tell me how to get here, and said he’d tell you I was coming, so I don’t know what happened there. I’m hungry and exhausted, though, so if you’re not going to let me in, just say so, so I can find a place to lie down and sleep out here.�

There were frantic whispers behind the door, but Harry couldn’t understand what was being said. Finally, the woman raised her voice slightly and hissed, “Arthur Weasley, you open that door this instant! If it turns out to be a trick, then whoever’s out there will have a very angry redheaded witch to deal with; but if that really is Harry, and you refuse to let him inside, then it’ll be you who has to deal with me!�

Without further argument, the door swung open to reveal a tall, balding man in glasses and a short, plump woman with a kind expression on her face. Both had flaming red hair and wore dressing gowns, and both were tightly clutching wooden wands. As soon as her eyes fell on him, the woman rushed forward and enveloped him in an embrace so tight that he had to struggle to breathe.

“We were so worried about you,� she sobbed. “Where have you been all this time?� She continued hugging him as he stood stiffly, not knowing how to react to this outpouring of affection. Obviously, this woman knew him well, but he had no idea who she was. Well, he assumed she was Ron’s mother, but other than that, he was completely oblivious.

After a long moment, she finally stepped back, wiping her eyes with the backs of her fingers. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he got the chance, something that looked like a fuzzy, gray tennis ball zoomed past him and began flitting around Ron’s mother’s head.

“You- I- Hold still!� she shouted as she swatted at the thing with her free hand. Harry just stood there, gawking, as she finally tucked her wand into the pocket of her dressing gown and caught the little ball in both hands. When she opened them, Harry could see that she was holding a tiny gray owl, which had an even tinier scrap of parchment tied to its foot.

“That’ll be Ron’s letter, I suppose,� said Arthur. “Come in, Harry, come in. It’s not that we don’t trust you; it’s just that... well, one can’t be too careful these days.� He ushered Harry into the living room and motioned for him to sit in a worn armchair. Once they were all seated, he turned to his wife and asked, “Now, what’s Ron got to say, Molly.�

The woman cleared her throat and began reading from the small scrap of parchment that Ron had folded into a tiny square and sent with his miniature owl.

“Dear Mum and Dad,

“I hope everything’s okay at home. I don’t have much time to write, but I need to tell you that Harry’s coming to the Burrow. He started writing a few weeks ago - and he didn’t tell us?� she yelled, looking up at her husband. He didn’t respond, so she looked back down and continued reading, “-but Dumbledore made us keep it a secret - ah, so that’s it - so Dumbledore, Hermione, and I (and now you) are the only ones who know. Well, McGonagall knows now too, since Harry’s last letter came during Transfiguration, but you can ask him about that - I explained it in my letter to him.

“You need to know that Harry says he’s lost his memory. He can’t remember anything about the Wizarding world, or Hogwarts, or even us, so please don’t go berserk when he doesn’t remember you. He says he was attacked by some dark wizards last night and just managed to escape, but he didn’t have anywhere to go, so I told him he could go to the Burrow. I figured you wouldn’t mind - well, of course we don’t mind,� she scoffed. “I hope this letter gets to you before Harry does, but I’m not counting on it because I know Hedwig flies way faster than Pig, and if the broom Harry’s on is decent, he’ll be able to outrun both of them as soon as my letter gets to him.

“School’s going okay, but Hermione’s driving me mad with her study schedules.

“See you soon,

“Ron�

There was a long pause after she finished reading, and Harry began to feel rather awkward just sitting here with two complete strangers. Suddenly, his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence and causing the woman named Molly to jump to her feet.

“Good heavens, child, you must be famished,� she exclaimed. “When was the last time you ate?�

Harry had to think a moment before answering, “Last night. No, wait, it was the night before. I had supper, then I was attacked and escaped. I didn’t have anything the next day, and I got Ron’s letter that night - last night. Then I came here.�

“You poor thing,� she gushed. “Into the kitchen this instant.� She nearly dragged him through a doorway and into the rather cramped kitchen, where she made him sit at the wooden table. “I’ll just get you something right away. Let’s see...� She began rummaging around, and within seconds had produced more food than he had eaten in the past week, and better quality than he could ever remember.

As he chewed hungrily on a sausage, Harry couldn’t resist thanking them with his mouth full. He expected a rebuke for his lack of manners, but none came. Who were these people?

“Harry,� said Arthur, “I was wondering if you could tell us-�

“Let the boy eat, Arthur,� Molly said quietly, cutting him off. “We can talk in the morning. The poor dear’s been flying all night; he’ll need his rest.�

Once Harry had finished eating, Molly sent him upstairs to sleep in Ron’s room. He grabbed his schoolbag as he passed through the living room, and climbed all the way up to the top of the staircase, finally entering the room marked with a sign reading, ‘Ronald’s Room.’ Exhausted, he didn’t even bother turning on the light as he dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed onto the bed, grateful that he wouldn’t be forced to relive his ordeal tonight.

As he slept, the corners of Harry’s mouth turned upward in a contented smile as he dreamed about the girl who had occupied his thoughts for so long now. He would be meeting her in person soon, he was sure, and that knowledge just made his dreams that much sweeter.

---

The next morning at breakfast, Molly did not shield Harry from questioning; in fact, she was the one who first asked him to recount his tale.

“Harry, dear,� she said as she Levitated a plate heaped with scrambled eggs onto the table, “now that you’ve had a good night’s rest, would you mind telling us where you’ve been all this time?� It was phrased as a question, but Harry knew that he had no choice but to tell her what she wanted to know.

“Sure, Mol- er, Mrs....� His voice trailed off.

Molly laughed - not unkindly - and said, “You normally call us Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dear, although we wouldn’t mind you calling us Molly and Arthur, would we Arthur?�

“Of course not, darling,� he answered.

“Er, I think I’ll stick to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for now,� said Harry. Then, taking a deep breath, he began his story. “The first thing I can remember is waking up in my old bed at my aunt and uncle’s house and realizing my memory was gone. Everything from the time I was ten years old up to that day is just a blur, and I get a terrible headache whenever I try to remember any of it. Uncle Vernon said something about me getting hit over the head at the end of term, so I figured that was the reason for the memory loss, but I don’t know that I believe that anymore.�

“A Memory Charm, no doubt,� muttered Mr. Weasley.

“A what?� Harry asked.

“A Memory Charm,� the older man repeated. “It’s a kind of magic that modifies a person’s memory. If whoever did it had done a better job, they’d have replaced your memories, rather than simply making you forget. Go on, though.�

“Right,� said Harry. “That day, we left town for the summer, and we didn’t come back until the night before I left for school. They told me that I went to- I went to- Why can’t I say the stupid name?� he wondered aloud. “Do you have any idea why I physically can’t say or write the name of the school I was at?�

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a quick glance, and Mr. Weasley said, “I think that’s a question best reserved for Professor Dumbledore. He sent word early this morning that he’ll be coming by later; you can ask him then.�

“Alright,� Harry said, deciding that a few hours wouldn’t be too long to wait. “Anyway, the Dursleys sent me to a school for really bad kids - boys, actually; it was an all boys school - and that’s where I’ve been ever since.� Over the course of the next half hour, Harry explained how he had begun dreaming about things that had happened to him at Hogwarts, finally culminating in the discovery of Ron’s letter during the Christmas holiday. Then he told them how he had gotten Hassseth, his serpentine friend, to find out Hedwig’s name, thus enabling him to establish contact with Ron and Hermione. Throughout the story, Harry carefully avoided any mention of actually doing magic, as the Weasleys knew he had not had a wand, and he had already learned that no one but him did magic without one. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with this secret; he just wanted to keep it to himself until he had a better idea of what was going on. He also avoided mentioning Tyler, as he didn’t see any reason to involve his friend any more than necessary.

“And to think Ron’s been in touch with you for weeks, and he never bothered to tell us a word,� Mrs. Weasley huffed during a pause in the story.

“It was on Dumbledore’s orders, Molly,� her husband reminded her gently. “If he’d gone against Dumbledore and told us, you’d have sent him a Howler for disobeying.�

“I know,� Mrs. Weasley sighed. “I just wish- Oh, never mind. Go on, Harry.�

“Two nights ago, I was sitting around, talking with Hassseth,� Harry said, “when she started telling me about an evil rat with a silver paw that was looking for me.� Mrs. Weasley gasped, but didn’t interrupt, so he continued, “She told me to be on the lookout, and then hid inside a big crack in the wall. Not five minutes later, this rat with the silver paw comes sneaking toward me. Well, Hassseth was waiting, and she came shooting out of her hiding place and bit him around the middle. Then the rat started swelling, and it... turned into a man.� Harry suddenly stopped, realizing how absurd his story must sound, even to people who were accustomed to dealing with magic, and the astonished looks on the Weasleys’ faces served only to reinforce this thought.

“I know it sounds crazy, but that’s really what happened,� Harry said. If Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn’t believe him, who would?

“We know, dear,� Mrs. Weasley said kindly. “It’s just that... well, that rat - Scabbers - lived in our house for many years. He belonged to my son, Percy, and then to Ron. Of course, that was before he got his silver paw, and we all thought he was just an ordinary rat. It wasn’t until your third year at Hogwarts that we found out he was really a dark wizard who had gone into hiding.�

Harry gaped at her. Not only did she believe his story, she actually knew the rat-wizard. She only knew him as a rat, but nevertheless, the coincidence was amazing.

“What happened next, Harry?� Mr. Weasley asked.

“Huh? Oh, right.� Harry shook his head to clear it. “After he turned into a man, he grabbed Hassseth’s head with his silver hand and-� his voice broke, and tears stung his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley laid a comforting hand on his arm and said, “There, there. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.�

Harry shook his head and took a calming breath. “No,� he said quietly, “I want you to know what happened. The man - Scabbers, I think you called him - he crushed Hassseth’s head with his silver hand.�

“You poor dear!� Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she muttered, “Hasn’t this child lost enough in his lifetime?�

“It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley,� Harry said as he brushed a few tears from his eyes. “She knew what she was doing, and I wouldn’t have done any less for her. The ironic part is that by killing Hassseth, Scabbers killed himself, too. He squeezed all of her stored venom into his own body. After that, he attacked me with his wand, but I was able to dodge his spells until the venom took effect. Once he was dead, I took his wand just in case I’d need it, and I took off.

“I used magic to unlock the front gates of the school, but some more wizards attacked me as soon as I got outside. I saw a broomstick just sitting there, so I jumped on it and took off. Lucky for me, only one of the other wizards had a broom, so I only had to fight against one person in the air. Anyway, after I made him crash into the wall of the school, I just flew as far and as fast as I could until I finally had to either land or fall asleep on the broom. After I woke up, I wrote to Ron, and he told me how to get here.�

“Extraordinary,� breathed Mr. Weasley. “Of course, all of this needs to be kept in the strictest confidence,� he added quickly. “Just so you know, Harry, it’s against our laws for anyone who is underage to use magic outside of school, except in life-threatening situations. Of course, what you’ve just told us would certainly qualify, but it would be better to avoid an inquiry altogether, particularly since you got into quite a bit of trouble for using magic to drive off a couple of dementors last summer.�

“I- What?� Harry asked, bewildered.

“A pair of dementors attacked you and your cousin last summer, and you drove them off,� Mr. Weasley clarified. “There was a big to-do about it because the Ministry of Magic was trying to discredit you, but in the end, you were cleared of all charges.�

“Umbridge,� Harry muttered to himself, forgetting for the moment to ask what dementors were.

“You remember?� Mr. Weasley asked in surprise.

“No,� Harry said sadly. “Hermione told me about her.�

“I see,� said Mr. Weasley as he glanced at his watch. “Sweet Merlin, look at the time! I’m afraid I’ve got to be going; I’m already five minutes late.� Mrs. Weasley gave him a quick kiss goodbye, and he hurried out the door.

“Mrs. Weasley?� Harry asked tentatively.

“Yes, dear?�

“I- er, there’s a favor I wanted to ask you,� he said. She nodded encouragingly, and he continued, “I sort of... brought Hassseth’s body with me.�

Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not interrupt.

“I was wondering if you might let me bury her here.�

“Of course, Harry, dear,� she said. “The children have a sort of pet cemetery near the orchard. I realize that she was more of a friend than a pet, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can offer.�

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,� Harry reassured her.

After running upstairs to retrieve his schoolbag, Harry followed Mrs. Weasley out the back door and across the garden to the edge of the apple orchard he had seen the night before. There, in a back corner of the garden, was a small, fenced-in area with three flat stones lying inside it. As Harry bent to look closer, he saw that each stone was engraved with a pet’s name and picture. The small cemetery appeared to be the final resting place for a cat named Ginger, an owl named Lindbergh, and a toad named Topper.

“Lindbergh was the first one we buried here,� Mrs. Weasley explained. “He was our first owl - he was already old when Arthur had him at school - and Arthur named him after some famous Muggle airplane pilot. Charlie was only four when he died, but he knew that his father had named him after the same Muggle as the owl.� She laughed softly. “He was so distraught that we had a little funeral service and buried Lindbergh here. After that, it became a sort of tradition. When my old cat, Ginger, died, we did the same for her. Then, when Bill’s toad, Topper, died just after his sixth year, little Ginny insisted we do the same for him. We thought we were going to have to add another pet when Scabbers was so sick a few years back, but....� She left the sentence unfinished.

Harry gingerly stepped over the short fence and knelt in the dirt. Picking up a small trowel, he began to dig. After only a few short minutes, the hole was ready, and Harry gently placed Hassseth’s body inside. Mrs. Weasley conjured a flat stone that matched the others, and prepared to use her wand to etch into it a picture of the snake.

“I’m sorry Harry, but-� Mrs. Weasley hesitated for a moment before saying, “-I’m not sure how to draw her head.�

“If you’ll teach me how and promise not to tell anybody, I could do it,� Harry suggested.

He watched as a battle was waged in her kind eyes. Finally, she whispered, “Oh, just this once.�

Harry watched as she demonstrated how to use a wand to engrave both words and pictures, and then handed him the stone and her wand. Swallowing hard, he pictured Hassseth in his mind - the way she had looked when she was teasing him about his “dream girl,� or when she was laughing at one of his stupid jokes. Finally, he spoke the incantation, and his mental picture was transferred to the stone. Hassseth’s body was coiled with her head raised high above it, looking out of the hard, gray surface. On her face was a toothy grin.

“Are you sure that’s how you want her to look?� Mrs. Weasley asked hesitantly.

“Of course,� Harry said. “Why?�

“Well... it’s just that she looks so... fearsome.�

Harry laughed sadly. “She’s smiling, Mrs. Weasley. That’s how she looked when she thought something was really funny.�

Mrs. Weasley suppressed a shudder as Harry used her wand to engrave HASSSETH in large, bold letters above the picture. Then, underneath the picture, he added, ‘A loyal friend in the fight against evil. In life and in death, she is proof that there are noble serpents in the world.’

Solemnly, Harry scooped dirt over the small snake’s body until the ground was firm and level, and then placed the stone near her head. “Goodbye Hassseth,� he whispered. “Thanks for everything. I’ll never forget you.�

After a long moment, Harry stood and followed Mrs. Weasley back toward the house. Just before he reached the back door, Ron’s tiny owl, Pig, zoomed up to him and began flitting about his face. Harry’s hand shot out and snatched the tiny ball of feathers, and removed the carefully folded square of parchment from his foot. As he unfolded it and began to read, Pig took off once again, twittering excitedly.

Dear Harry,

Sorry my letter didn’t get to Mum and Dad before you did. I hope there wasn’t too much trouble. I was hoping to be able to come home and see you, but Dumbledore and McGonagall say I have to stay and prepare for my exams. Hermione thinks so too (big shocker there). Like any of them really expect me to study anyway!

I just wanted to say sorry for not being able to be there to meet you. When I talked to Dumbledore, he said he’d be coming by the Burrow later today. Then again, with how slow Pig flies, he’ll probably have been and gone before this letter gets to you. Take care of yourself, and don’t let Mum smother you too badly.

Ron

“What does Ron have to say?� Mrs. Weasley asked when he had finished reading. She was holding the kitchen door open for him, and he quickly stepped inside.

“Just that he couldn’t get permission to come see me because he has to study for exams,� Harry answered. “And that Dumbledore’s coming later, but Mr. Weasley already told me that.�

“Yes, well he’d better be studying for those exams if he knows what’s good for him. According to Hermione, he usually just sits around playing chess or reading about Quidditch, and then completely panics come test time.�

“Mrs. Weasley,� Harry began hesitantly, “if Ron’s not coming until school ends, do you think I could maybe see a picture of him? I mean, I think I’ve seen him in one of my dreams, but I can’t be sure.�

Mrs. Weasley gave him a kind look that almost bordered on pity. “Of course, dear,� she said. “Have a seat at the table.� Harry obeyed, and Mrs. Weasley walked into the living room, took a large picture frame off of the wall, and brought it back to the kitchen, where she set it down gently on the table in front of him. “This is a few years old, mind you; we’re really not much for taking pictures.�

Harry stared, wide-eyed at the mass of arms, legs, faces, and red hair in front of him. “These are all your kids?� he asked in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a family this big before.�

Mrs. Weasley laughed. “Yes, and you’ve met them all, too. This one is Ron,� she said, pointing at the youngest boy, who was probably about thirteen in the photo. “I’ll never forget those first few letters he wrote home from Hogwarts. He was so excited that he’d made a good friend so quickly - you, I mean.� She sighed reminiscently. “Anyhow, the twins are Fred and George. Watch out for them - they love playing pranks on people. Next is Percy-� she pointed to the boy with glasses, “-he works at the Ministry - and then there’s Charlie. He works with dragons in Romania - you met him a couple of years ago when he brought some to Hogwarts.�

“Dragons?� Harry choked. “You mean dragons aren’t just make-believe?� He knew this information shouldn’t surprise him; after all, he had personally talked to a snake, done all sorts of magic, and flown halfway across the country on a broomstick. Still, the idea of real live dragons was disturbing.

“Of course they’re real,� Mrs. Weasley said. “You battled one as part of the Triwizard Tournament in your fourth year.�

“I what?� Harry shouted. “Er- sorry, I just- well, I mean that is a bit of a shock to just find out something like that about myself. Do they really breathe fire?�

“Of course they do. But your flying was good enough to get you past your dragon without any trouble at all. Nobody who’s seen you on a broomstick can deny that you’re a natural flyer.�

After his experience with the flying duel not long before, Harry couldn’t argue with that last statement. “Who’s the one with the long hair and earring?�

“Oh, that’s my oldest, Bill. I wish he’d let me trim that hair just a bit, but he insists on just letting it get longer and longer. And I don’t know how he gets away with going to work with a great fang hanging off of his ear, but.... Well, I guess that’s what happens when you spend too much time with goblins.�

Harry almost asked how Bill came to spend too much time with goblins, but thought better of it; he didn’t want Mrs. Weasley any more riled up about her oldest son’s appearance than she already was. Instead, he asked, “Don’t you have a daughter, too? How come she’s not in this picture?�

“Oh, she’s there,� Mrs. Weasley answered with a wry smile. “She’s just hiding in the background.� She prodded the pictures of Fred and George with her wand, and they moved aside to reveal a petite girl with the same flaming red hair as her brothers. She was looking determinedly at the floor, allowing her waist-length hair to obscure her face.

“What’s the matter?� Harry asked. “It’s like she doesn’t want to be seen. Is she really that shy?�

“She used to be around you,� Mrs. Weasley said with a small chuckle. “Ginny would probably kill me if she knew I told you this, but you’re going to find out sooner or later anyway. When she first met you, she was so taken with you that she couldn’t be in the same room as you without turning beet red and doing something to make a fool of herself, the poor child. She’s grown out of all that, of course. Unfortunately, this picture was taken when she was still going through that phase.�

Harry didn’t know how to react. He knew he wasn’t particularly ugly or anything, but the idea that anyone would swoon over him in the way Mrs. Weasley had just described seemed laughable.

“So now you’ve met the family,� she said at last. “I just need to tidy up a bit in here before Professor Dumbledore arrives.�

Harry spent the rest of the morning helping Mrs. Weasley around the house. It was a bit strange, as she used magic for everything while he wasn’t allowed to, but he was glad to help. He dusted furniture in the living room and washed the dishes from breakfast while Mrs. Weasley worked outside in the garden. After that, he helped her prepare lunch, although his contribution consisted mainly of chopping vegetables and stirring the large pot of stew - two things that he knew she could have done better with her wand. Even as he stirred, he felt a surge of gratitude for this woman who had spent her entire morning helping him to feel welcome and needed.

At twelve-fifteen, just as they were about to sit down to eat, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Weasley disappeared to answer it, and returned at once with a tall, very old wizard in midnight blue robes. His white beard extended down past his waist, and perfectly matched his long, white hair. Harry was immediately reminded of the illustration of Merlin in his English Literature textbook. The wizard looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles with startlingly blue eyes, and the corners of his beard twitched upward as he smiled.

“Good afternoon, Harry,� said the man. “I am Professor Dumbledore.�

Harry nodded. “I figured you were,� he said, still staring at the professor.

“Have a seat, Albus,� Mrs. Weasley invited. “Have you eaten?�

“No, Molly, I haven’t. And I’m not ashamed to say that I had rather hoped to arrive in time for one of your delicious meals,� Dumbledore said with a wink. Mrs. Weasley blushed as she began dishing out the stew.

“Sir,� Harry said, not wanting to come across as rude, “can you tell me what’s been happening? I mean, do you know why my memory’s gone and everything?�

The old man just smiled sadly.

“What?� Harry asked, suddenly concerned. “Did I say something wrong?�

“No, Harry, no,� said Dumbledore lightly. “I was merely thinking of the last time the two of us had a one-on-one chat. But to answer your question, I am here to try to determine the cause of your disappearance and memory-loss.�

Dumbledore took a bite of stew. “Until you contacted your friend, Ronald Weasley, a few weeks ago, no one in the Wizarding world had heard from you since you left Hogwarts last June. Since that time, a number of witches and wizards - both those who care about you and those who want to see you harmed - have been scouring the country in search of the boy named Harry Potter. You may not realize it, Harry, but you were hidden extremely well.�

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t able to tell Ron where I was, but somehow that rat - Scabbers I think he was called - managed to find me.�

Dumbledore’s bushy white eyebrows rose as the wrinkles in his forehead deepened. “I see...� he said slowly. “Perhaps it would be best if you told me your story first. Afterward, we can decide where to go from there.�

Agreeing with the professor’s suggestion, Harry recounted his experiences at St. Brutus’s, once again being careful to leave out any mentions of Tyler Stevens. He was also careful not to mention using magic without a wand, as he wanted to avoid any possible trouble that might cause. Throughout the entire story, Dumbledore watched him intently, his blue eyes seeming to look right through Harry, giving him the uncomfortable feeling that the ancient wizard knew exactly when something was being left out.

Finally, when the meal and the story were finished, Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “It appears that Arthur’s assessment is most likely correct: you have almost certainly been subjected to a Memory Charm. As he told you, this particular Memory Charm is fairly weak, and was definitely not performed by a professional Obliviator. However, before we can set about reversing it, we must find the identity of the person who cast it.�

“Why’s that, sir?� Harry asked. “Can’t you just fix my memory, and then I’ll be able to remember who did it?�

Dumbledore smiled at the naïveté of the question. “If only it were that simple,� he said. “However, a Memory Charm can only be safely reversed by the wand that cast it in the first place. I’m afraid that, until we locate the wand that took your memory, it will not return - at least, not in any way other than occasional dreams or flashes of remembrance.

“Of equal concern, however, is the fact that you are unable to reveal where you have been staying for all of this time. This seems to point to the Fidelius Charm, which would also explain why we were unable to locate you for so long, but there are a few inconsistencies. You see, the Fidelius Charm is a complicated bit of magic which conceals a secret inside a single living soul. This person to whom the secret is entrusted is referred to, appropriately, as the Secret Keeper. From the time the charm is cast until it is removed by the one who cast it, the only way to learn the secret is to be told by the Secret Keeper.�

Harry listened with rapt attention, drinking in the information that he was being handed. Finally, he was going to get some answers about what had happened to him.

“Knowing that this is the case,� Dumbledore continued, “it seems logical to assume that your teachers and schoolmates at the school you have been attending would have needed to learn your whereabouts from the Secret Keeper. While possible, this seems extremely unlikely, and it fails to answer the second inconsistency: How were Peter Pettigrew - the wizard you referred to as Scabbers - and his companions able to find you?�

“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?� asked Harry. “This Secret Keeper person must have told them where to find me.�

“I don’t think so, Harry,� Dumbledore responded. “If your Secret Keeper was going to turn you over to the likes of them, he wouldn’t have waited all this time to do so. No, there must be some other explanation.�

“But don’t you at least have a theory, Albus?� asked Mrs. Weasley.

“Of course I do, Molly. I believe that whoever cast the Fidelius Charm on Harry - probably the same person who Memory-Charmed him - was only seeking to hide him from the Magical community. This, coupled with the fact that this particular witch or wizard does not seem to be particularly proficient at complicated Charms, would have left a sort of loophole in the spell’s protection. So long as Harry was in his hiding place, no witch or wizard could find him, except for those who were told by the Secret Keeper; however, Muggles would have no trouble finding or interacting with him.�

“But what about Scabbers - Peter what’s-his-name, I mean? How did he find me if the Secret Keeper didn’t tell him?� Harry asked.

“Please remember, Harry, that this is only a theory,� Dumbledore reminded him. “The case of Peter Pettigrew was somewhat unique, I believe, because he had the ability to transform into a rat. You see, although your whereabouts were concealed from magical beings, Scabbers - or Wormtail, as he was also called - was an ordinary rat. As such, he was able to locate you, but he could not reveal your location to any of his comrades. That, I believe, is why he went into the school alone, leaving the others outside where they would be able to see you. As an underage wizard with no wand and no memory of your magical training, they doubtless believed you would be an easy target.� He sighed. “It appears that some people never learn.�

Harry wasn’t quite sure what the professor meant by that last statement, but that wasn’t what concerned him at the moment. “So what you’re saying is that somebody erased my memory and then tried to hide me away from the Magical world? Who would go to all that trouble on my account? I’m only sixteen years old; surely I can’t have that many enemies.�

Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley both stifled snorts. “When your memory returns, Harry, you too will see the humor in that statement,� said Dumbledore.

“You mean- Do I really have that many enemies?� Harry asked incredulously.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, you do,� said the old professor. “The list grows every day, as does the list of those friendly to you. For now, though, it’s best not to dwell on that. The first order of business should be restoring your memory, but something about that Fidelius Charm is still troubling me. You see, in order for you to be hidden by the Fidelius Charm, you would have had to give your permission - something I find very unlikely in this circumstance.�

Mrs. Weasley let out a harsh laugh. “You always do try to make them grow up too quickly, Albus,� she said. “Surely Harry wouldn’t be able to make that sort of decision for himself. He’s not even of age.�

Dumbledore turned sharply to look at her. “Of course,� he whispered. “I should have seen it before: permission for such a spell could not have come from Harry; it would have to come from-� he stopped abruptly.

“His legal guardian,� Mrs. Weasley finished in a tense whisper that almost qualified as a growl.

Harry felt his jaw clench, and he could have sworn that Dumbledore’s did the same.

---

“Molly, if you’ll excuse us, I believe Harry and I have an important appointment that we don’t want to miss,� Professor Dumbledore said, suddenly coming to his feet. “Come along, Harry.�

Harry stood and followed him out into the garden of the Burrow.

“Albus, wait,� Mrs. Weasley cried as she hurried after them. “Where are you going?�

“To do something I ought to have done a long time ago,� Dumbledore said mysteriously. He waved his wand in a circle, and a long, charcoal gray traveling cloak with a large hood appeared from thin air. “Put this on, Harry,� he instructed. “I don’t want you being recognized - at least, not yet.� While Harry fastened the cloak around his shoulders and hid his face with the hood, Dumbledore conjured a matching cloak for himself and did likewise.

“We may be awhile, but don’t worry; everything will be just fine,� the Headmaster called to Mrs. Weasley, who still stood next to the door looking torn between relief that Dumbledore was finally doing something about Harry’s predicament, and indignation at being kept in the dark about it. “Say hello to Arthur for me if he gets home before we return.�

Turning to Harry, he said, “Now, hold tight to my arm if you would. We’re going to Apparate.�

Harry, who had no idea what ‘Apparate’ meant, simply did as he was instructed. A moment later, everything went black and he had the alarming sensation of being squeezed through a very small rubber tube. He clutched Dumbledore’s arm tighter and struggled to draw breath. He was suffocating. An instant later, however, he was suddenly out of the tube, breathing fresh air and standing in the sunlit outdoors once again.

After taking several huge gulps of oxygen, Harry rounded on the Headmaster. “Why didn’t you warn me that I wouldn’t be able to breathe?�

“Shhh!� the old man commanded from the shadows beneath his hood. “We wouldn’t want someone recognizing your voice,� he quickly added in a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t warn you because the inability to breathe is merely an illusion brought on by a brain that still wants to think in Muggle terms. In time, you will learn to easily Apparate without the slightest discomfort. I do apologize for frightening you like that, but the fact that your first experience with Apparition came as such a surprise will only serve to help you learn more quickly. Now, I suggest we get indoors; it is not advisable to be seen loitering in front of this particular pub.�

It was at this point in the conversation that Harry finally looked around and realized, to his great astonishment, that they were no longer standing in the garden of the Burrow. Instead, they stood in a dirty side street of an unfamiliar town, in front of a shabby inn. The inn sported a large sign depicting a wild boar's severed head which was leaking blood onto a white cloth. Harry shuddered involuntarily, wondering what sort of place Dumbledore had brought him to, and placed his senses on alert. He had resolved not to use magic in front of anyone for fear of running afoul of Wizarding law, but that resolution did not extend to circumstances where self-defense was necessary.

Staying close behind Dumbledore, Harry entered the dimly-lit pub. It was a small, dirty room, which smelled strongly of wet animal hair. The smell made him gag. As he followed the Headmaster to the bar, Harry glanced around at the other patrons, and noted that he and Dumbledore were not the only ones who thought it prudent to conceal their faces.

When he reached the bar, Dumbledore leaned over close to the barman and said, in the same hoarse whisper he had used outside, “Canary Cream.� Harry was completely confused by this statement, but the old barman seemed to understand. He nodded curtly and led the pair through a back door and into a shabby bedroom, where he left them and shut the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Dumbledore flicked his wand, causing both his and Harry’s traveling cloaks to vanish, and said, “I apologize for the secrecy, but I’m afraid that you and I may be about to do something that is not entirely ethical, and I’d rather not let Molly get wind of it. Oh, she would approve, of course; however, I’d rather not give her something she can hold over my head for the rest of my life. Now, before we get started, I need to ask you: do you know how to use that wand you have sticking out of your back pocket?�

“Er- yeah. I think so,� Harry replied hesitantly.

“Excellent,� said Dumbledore. “Would you mind demonstrating for me?�

“No, not at all,� Harry said. “But won’t I get in trouble for using magic outside school? Mrs. Weasley said something about that.�

“Harry, I am your Headmaster, not some law enforcement official from the Ministry of Magic. And between you and me, the Ministry has no way of knowing when underage magic is performed anyway. For the most part, they rely on wizard parents to keep their children in line. The few like yourself, who live only with Muggles, are the only ones who are really watched. However, I have a feeling that - given the circumstances in which you find yourself - the Ministry will no longer be watching the Dursleys’ home for signs of unauthorized magic.�

“Why not?� asked Harry.

“Because whoever is behind all of this had to make sure that the Ministry would not be notified if you were to perform accidental magic. Of course, this also means that we are dealing with someone who has very important connections within the Ministry. We must tread carefully until the time is right - hence the need for the hooded cloak. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to demonstrate some magic. Anything you like.�

“Okay,� said Harry, drawing the wand he had taken from the dead Peter Pettigrew. It felt slightly awkward in his hand, and he suddenly realized that - other than the engraving spell Mrs. Weasley had helped him do for Hassseth’s headstone - the only thing he had used a wand for was the Four-Point Spell.

Pointing the wand at one of the pillows on the bed, Harry said, “Accio.� The pillow zoomed toward him, but before it had a chance to reach him, he Banished it to the far side of the room before making it hover and saying, “Diffindo,� as he made a slashing motion with the wand. The pillow split in two, spilling feathers all over the floor. Harry ended by using the wand to re-stuff and repair the pillow before returning it to the bed. With a nervous smile, he turned to see the Headmaster’s reaction.

“Very good,� Dumbledore said in an even voice that betrayed no trace of emotion. “I was thinking more along the lines of transfiguring a teacup into a mouse, or something of the sort, but I suppose that even after all these years I am still biased toward my old subject.�

Harry looked at the floor, suddenly embarrassed by his wanton destruction of property, regardless of the fact that he had immediately repaired it. “Sorry, Professor,� he muttered. “I don’t really remember any Transfiguration.�

“No matter,� Dumbledore said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You will soon enough. In the meantime, what you do remember should suffice in the unlikely event that you should need to use it. Now, as you have probably guessed, we shall be paying your aunt and uncle a visit this afternoon.�

For the next five minutes, Harry listened with rapt attention as Dumbledore outlined his plan for getting the Dursleys to cooperate. When he had finished, he instructed Harry to take hold of his arm once again. Doing his best to prepare himself for the unpleasant experience of Apparition, Harry obediently grasped Dumbledore’s arm and they disappeared.

When they reappeared with a loud crack, Harry immediately looked around and discovered that they were standing a few doors down from the Dursleys’ house, just out of sight of the street. Following Dumbledore’s plan, he trudged down the sidewalk toward the home of his aunt and uncle, not bothering to look up until he had arrived on the front porch. He gave three loud knocks, and then waited apprehensively.

A moment later, the door was flung open by a large, beefy man with thinning hair and a bushy mustache. He glared down at Harry for a moment before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him inside.

“Got yourself sent home, did you?� he sneered. “Been brawling again?� He seemed about to throw Harry face first into the wall, when a voice from behind him stopped him cold.

“Not at all, Mr. Dursley. Harry and I were simply in the neighborhood and thought it might be nice if we dropped in for a visit.� As Uncle Vernon turned slowly to face the still-open front door, Albus Dumbledore stepped lightly across the threshold and closed the door firmly behind him.

“You- But-� Uncle Vernon stammered, his eyes wide in horror. Attempting to take control of the situation, he puffed out his chest. “Now see here-�

“I’m afraid I must ask you to release Mr. Potter. He may be your nephew, but I cannot allow you to manhandle him in front of me,� Dumbledore said, calmly raising his wand.

Uncle Vernon’s eyes flitted from the wand to Harry and back again; then he dropped Harry’s collar as though it had scalded him, and began backing away toward the kitchen. Dumbledore immediately lowered his wand and began striding toward him, a serene smile on his face. He nodded at Harry as he passed, and Harry followed in his wake.

“Vernon! Who was at the d-� Harry heard his Aunt Petunia begin to ask. As she appeared in the kitchen doorway, however, she caught sight of Dumbledore, and froze mid-sentence. “P-Professor?� she asked tentatively.

“Good afternoon, Petunia,� Dumbledore replied in the same bright tone he had been using since they arrived. Uncle Vernon had, by this time, backed himself all the way into the kitchen, and was now blocked in by Dumbledore and Harry.

“I- I see you finally found Harry,� she said at last, in a very poor imitation of her normal voice.

“Yes indeed,� Dumbledore replied. “I don’t wish to take too much of your time, so we’ll just be collecting Harry’s school things and setting off. Where have you been storing them?�

“Well- er- you see,� stammered Aunt Petunia. Never in his life had Harry seen his aunt so flustered, and he suddenly found it very enjoyable watching her squirm under his Headmaster’s piercing gaze.

“He took it all when he left the last time,� Uncle Vernon said suddenly. Harry stifled a laugh, as his uncle’s voice came out an octave higher than usual.

“I see,� Dumbledore said as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Then we do have a problem, don’t we? You see, Harry here does not remember taking his trunk or any of his other things with him.� He placed exaggerated emphasis on the words ‘does not remember,’ as he continued to stare unblinkingly at Aunt Petunia.

Petunia gasped.

As if to cover up his wife’s reaction, Vernon exclaimed, “Well that’s not our fault! The boy’s never exactly been a model of responsibility-�

Aunt Petunia let out a gasping sob. “Alright,� she whispered. “We did it. We had him hidden.�

“Petunia!�

“No, Vernon!� she shouted. “No matter what we promised ourselves about squashing the-� she paused for a moment, as if deciding what word to use, “-magic-� she gave a little shudder, “-out of him, this time we really did go too far.�

Uncle Vernon stared at her, his mouth agape and his face bearing a closer resemblance to a giant plum with every passing second.

“Do I have your permission to view your memory, then?� Dumbledore pressed.

Aunt Petunia closed her eyes. Her face wore a pained expression as she nodded slightly.

“Excellent,� Dumbledore exclaimed. He twirled his wand once, and a shallow stone basin appeared on the kitchen table. Uncle Vernon made an odd gurgling sound in his throat, but no one paid him any mind. As soon as the basin had appeared, the old wizard raised his wand and touched it to Aunt Petunia’s temple.

“I’m going to need you to concentrate on the memory I seek,� he said quietly. Petunia nodded, keeping her eyes closed. When Dumbledore finally withdrew his wand a short time later, there seemed to be a length of silvery string stuck to its tip. He carefully dropped it into the stone basin. “Now,� he announced, “we watch.�

Dumbledore prodded the silvery mass with his wand, and it began to move as though it were being stirred. As it spun, the silvery string seemed to liquefy and glow. Just as Harry was beginning to wonder what they were supposed to be watching, cloudy shapes began rising out of the depths of the stone basin. After a moment, they began to solidify until Harry was able to see himself sitting in the backseat of Uncle Vernon’s big company car, while his uncle drove and his aunt rode up front. Everyone was silent, and Harry had a faraway look on his face and tears shining in the corners of his eyes. One moment, he would look like he was about to laugh; the next, he would be close to breaking down into sobs.

Harry watched the memory unfold before him, intensely curious about what had happened to put him in that state. As he pondered this, the car pulled to a stop in front of number four, Privet Drive. He watched himself retrieve a large trunk and a birdcage from the back of the car, and then head inside.

As he dragged his trunk past the entrance to the sitting room, Harry was startled to hear a girlish voice from inside say, “Incarcerous.� Immediately, he was lying on the floor next to his trunk and the overturned cage, bound fast by magical ropes. Smiling down at him with a malevolent look in her eye was a short woman with a flabby, toad-like face.

“Now see here,� began Uncle Vernon, “I’ll have none of that in my house. We agreed-�

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Dursley,� the woman replied in her sickly sweet voice, “but surely you recognize the need to restrain the boy. We wouldn’t want him getting violent, now would we?�

“I’ll kill you,� Harry hissed as he struggled against his bonds. “One day, it’ll be just you and me, and you won’t make it out alive.� Even though he was bound and on the floor, his tone was deadly serious as he worked furiously to get his arms free.

The witch laughed airily. “Oh, Mr. Potter; I thought you would have learned by now not to tell such hurtful lies. Perhaps this will help you hold your tongue.� She flicked her wand at him, conjuring a gag to prevent him from speaking. Harry glared daggers at her and remained silent, although he continued his futile struggle against the magical ropes.

“Enough of this nonsense!� shouted Uncle Vernon, who was beginning to turn a light shade of purple. “I only agreed to meet with you because you said you could help us deal with the boy, but here you are doing- doing that in my house. Tell me what you propose, or get out!�

The witch smiled sweetly at him as she retrieved her clipboard from where it had been resting on the arm of a chair. “You have raised your nephew from the time he was fifteen months old, and - until he turned eleven and was informed of what he truly is - you did your best to-� she consulted her clipboard, “-‘squash the weirdness out of him,’ is that right?�

“Yes,� Uncle Vernon answered, still eyeing her with a look of distrust. Harry had a feeling that the only reason his uncle hadn’t thrown her out immediately was because he simply couldn’t dislike someone who would bind Harry on sight.

“Very well,� she continued in her nauseatingly girlish voice. “I am here to offer you a chance to ‘squash the weirdness out of him,’ as you say. I can make Mr. Potter forget all about the magical world, and he’ll go back to just being your nephew, with no recollection whatsoever of anyone or anything related to magic.�

Harry’s eyes widened in horror and he screamed in rage, forgetting that his mouth was stuffed with a gag, as he fought even more furiously against the ropes that held him bound. Uncle Vernon winced at the sound of the word ‘magic,’ but nodded, inviting his visitor to continue.

“I’ll take care of his trunk and his owl; he won’t be needing them anymore. Now, as far as what you need to do, just treat him like you always have, and don’t mention anything about his school, his friends, and so on. Oh, and I suggest you all go on a nice long holiday this summer, just in case any of his friends do come looking for him. Do you have any questions?�

“Yes,� answered Uncle Vernon. “The last time we tried to escape from those freaks from his school, they were able to track us down no matter where we went. How would we be able to escape this time?�

The witch gave a very false laugh before answering, “Last time, you didn’t have my help,� she answered simply. “All I need is your permission to use magic to keep him hidden, and he will be lost to them forever.�

“What happens in the fall when he’s supposed to go back to school, then?� asked Uncle Vernon.

She smiled her sickly sweet smile, and said, “I’ll be arranging for him to attend St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, since that’s where you’ve been telling people he goes, anyway. There are enough boys there that no one will notice the fact that nobody remembers him.�

“Fine,� said Uncle Vernon. “Get on with it then, and I don’t want you doing any more of- of that in my house. Just hide him and make him forget, and then you’re gone.�

“Of course,� said the witch. She waved her wand at Harry’s school trunk and birdcage, and muttered, “Evanesco,� causing both to disappear. “When he wakes up, the last several years will be a blur for him,� she added as an afterthought. “Tell him he was hit over the head during a fight at the end of term, and that’s why he can’t remember anything.� She leveled her wand at Harry and, with an evil little laugh, said very clearly, “Obliviate.�

The memory ended, its figures slowly dissipating and falling back into the stone basin.

“With your permission, I should like to keep this memory, Petunia,� said Dumbledore. Aunt Petunia nodded her consent, and he waved his wand at the basin, causing it to disappear. Harry assumed that he had simply sent it back where it had come from.

“Who was that, Professor?� Harry burst out, finally unable to restrain himself any longer.

“Her name is Dolores Umbridge, and she is a powerful official in the Ministry of Magic,� Dumbledore answered.

“Umbridge.... Hang on- isn’t she the teacher that gave me this?� Harry asked, showing the Headmaster the line of thin, white scars on the back of his right hand.

Dumbledore nodded grimly. “We must tread cautiously, Harry. This is more serious than I had thought, and therefore may take more time than we would like. However, if we frighten her into disappearing, the chances of ever recovering your memory will be next to none.�

“If that’s all-� began Uncle Vernon as he regained the ability to speak.

“No, Mr. Dursley, that is not all,� Dumbledore said firmly, cutting him off. “Petunia, I don’t think it is necessary to say how disappointed I am. I would have expected this sort of behavior from your husband, but not from you. What ever happened to the wide-eyed girl who used to spend her afternoons corresponding with her sister’s elderly Headmaster?�

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. Surely he couldn’t be suggesting that he and Aunt Petunia had at one time been pen friends?

Still sobbing, Aunt Petunia looked up into the Headmaster’s eyes. Her expression was fierce, but Harry couldn’t decide if that was because she was feeling defiance or regret. “She died along with her parents,� she answered in a passionate whisper.

Dumbledore sighed. “How long will you cling to that resentment, Petunia? You cannot continue to blame your sister for the tragedy of losing your parents at a young age.�

“She did nothing to help them!� Aunt Petunia spat.

“Because there was nothing she could do,� Dumbledore finished for her in an understanding voice. “Petunia, you know better than most Muggles that even magic has its limits. Your parents were ill, and no amount of medicine or magic would have been able to cure them. Your bitterness toward your sister not only robbed you of the closeness you once shared with her, it has also robbed you of the close relationship you ought to share with your surrogate son-� both Dursleys and Harry winced at this choice of words, “-and has done almost immeasurable harm to him as well. You have kept him alive, it is true, but you have done little else on Harry’s behalf. Let it go, Petunia. Let the bitterness go, and move on with your life.�

Sobbing into her hands, Aunt Petunia collapsed into a chair without responding.

“I suppose that now it is time for us to be going,� Dumbledore said at last. “Harry?� Harry took one last glance at his sobbing aunt before following his Headmaster out of the house.

---

A/N: In case you didn’t catch it, the “unethical behavior� Dumbledore engaged in while with the Dursleys was performing Legilimency on Aunt Petunia (the infamous “piercing gaze�). Why else would she have given in so easily?

---

Harry spent the next week at the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting impatiently for Ron and Hermione to return from school, and for Dumbledore to bring word of his efforts to expose Dolores Umbridge. He had been furious when the old Headmaster had explained to him that extracted memories were inadmissible in court, and that the Dursleys - as Muggles - would not be allowed to testify (though Harry doubted that they would have done so willingly anyway). Nevertheless, as he was unable to do otherwise, he spent his days helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, writing letters to Ron and Hermione, and wishing he knew what Dumbledore was up to.

One week after Harry’s visit to Privet Drive, Mr. Weasley came home from work dragging a large trunk and a birdcage. Harry immediately went to help him carry them inside.

“Can I help you with those, Mr. Weasley?� he asked.

Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly at him. “I should be asking that question of you - after all, they do belong to you.�

Harry looked more closely at the trunk and the cage, and it suddenly struck him that they were the same trunk and cage he had seen himself carrying in his aunt’s memory. “Where did you find them?� he asked in disbelief.

“Let’s get them inside, and I’ll explain everything.�

After hastily depositing the trunk and cage in the living room, Harry hurried into the kitchen, where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting. Mr. Weasley had a jubilant expression on his face, and seemed extremely keen to tell his story. Without saying a word, Harry sat down across from him and waited for him to begin.

“Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, gave me your trunk and Hedwig’s cage, Harry. Dumbledore convinced her to raid Dolores Umbridge’s home and office. Your things were hidden in her house. Your wand and everything else are inside your trunk - we don’t think anything is missing.�

“But- what’s that mean? Will I be getting my memory back now?� Harry asked hopefully. It was nice to have his trunk back, but it contained possessions that he didn’t even know he had. His memory was far more important than anything he could possibly own.

Mr. Weasley’s face fell. “Er- Not exactly,� he said. “Unfortunately, Minister Fudge claims that she’s been framed so, although he allowed your property to be returned, he’s doing his best to prevent charges being brought. I’m afraid that not even Dumbledore will be able to restore your memory without Umbridge’s wand, and until she’s convicted, we can’t lay a hand on it.�

“What?� Harry demanded. “You mean I’m stuck with no memory of my friends until some stupid politician decides to do the right thing?� He didn’t know much about politics, but he had often heard his uncle complaining about how long it took politicians to get anything done, and he didn’t have that kind of time. He had half a mind to storm out of the house in search of Umbridge that very minute, but unfortunately - fortunately for her - he had no idea where she could possibly found. Otherwise, he would already be on his way to steal her wand himself. .

“Well, I might not have put it exactly like that, but... yes,� replied Mr. Weasley. “I’m sorry, Harry, but it looks like it’s going to be a slow process.�

“Great,� Harry grumbled. “Perfect. I’ll just keep marking time until somebody who apparently hates me decides she wants to be nice and let me get on with my life.� Fuming, he pushed himself up from the table, knocking his glass to the floor and shattering it in the process. With a wave of his hand and a muttered, “Reparo,� he restored the broken glass and stormed out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on Ron’s bedroom door. Harry, who was stretched out on Ron’s bed, ignored it. He was still stung by the injustice of his situation, and he didn’t feel like talking to anyone just yet. The door creaked open, but still he didn’t look up.

“Harry?� asked a hoarse voice. “May I interrupt?�

Harry finally sat up to see Professor Dumbledore standing just inside the room. “Er, sure,� he said.

Dumbledore twirled his wand, conjuring up a squashy purple armchair. As he sat down, he fixed Harry with an appraising stare. “I have just spoken with Arthur and Molly.�

Harry suddenly felt very ashamed of his outburst, and he looked down at his feet. “Yeah, er, sorry about that. I know you’re doing everything you can; it’s just frustrating that nothing’s really being accomplished yet.�

Dumbledore sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Harry, I want you to know that we all want very much to recover your memory. You must understand, however, that we cannot simply march into the Ministry of Magic and demand Madam Umbridge’s wand, no matter how much we all may want to. We simply do not have enough support on the inside to take such drastic actions. That doesn’t mean that we’re giving up on recovering your memory, only that we must tread cautiously until the time is right. Do you understand that?�

“Yes sir,� Harry said in a subdued voice.

Dumbledore continued staring intently at him. “As important as that understanding is, Harry, it is not the reason I am here. Molly tells me that you shattered a glass on your way out of the room.�

“I fixed it,� Harry replied indignantly.

“Exactly,� said Dumbledore.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. “I did magic,� he whispered. “Mrs. Weasley told me that I can’t because I’m not of age, and then I did it right in front of her.�

“True,� Dumbledore responded with a slow nod of his head. “However, I find it more interesting that you were able to intentionally repair the glass without using a wand. Has this happened before?�

“Er- not exactly this,� Harry stammered, trying to stall for time. His ability to do magic without a wand was the last real secret he had left, and revealing it made him feel exposed and vulnerable. At length, he whispered, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?�

“No, I will not. In fact, I believe that - for the time being, at least - you would do well to keep this ability a secret from everyone. What else are you able to do without a wand, Harry?�

Harry shrugged. “Anything I can do with a wand, I guess.�

“Would you care to demonstrate a few spells for me?�

Harry crossed the small bedroom and closed the door. Pointing at the knob, he said, “Obfirmo,� and then jiggled it to demonstrate that it was locked. Satisfied, he added, “Alohomora,� and re-opened the door. “Anything else you’d like to see?�

“Perhaps you could defend yourself against this.� Dumbledore drew his wand more quickly than Harry would have thought possible for a man his age, and said, “Petrificus Totalus.�

“Protego!� Harry shouted, throwing his hands forward to deflect the attack.

“Very interesting indeed,� muttered the Headmaster. “I wonder, are you able to perform more than one spell at a time - perhaps one with your right hand and another with your left?�

“I’m not sure,� Harry said truthfully. “I think so. The only thing I remember doing like that is making an old marionette that the Dursleys gave me dance. I used five levitation spells - one from each finger on my right hand to each of its arms, legs, and head.�

“I see. Harry, have a seat.� Harry sat back down on the edge of Ron’s bed. “I was hoping not to have to explain this to you, but unfortunately, it appears that you may be without a memory for quite some time. I know that your friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have warned you that a group of dark wizards are after you, so I won’t dwell on that. You need to know, however, that they are not your only enemies in this world. Sadly, there has been an ongoing effort to discredit you in the press for at least two years now.�

“Yeah, I know. They told me about that, too,� Harry replied.

“Good,� said Dumbledore. “Then you will understand why it is imperative that we keep your ability to do magic without a wand a complete secret. Anything out of the ordinary will immediately be seized upon as evidence that you yourself are a dark wizard, and we can’t have that.�

“So I was right to think that it’s unusual for somebody to be able to do magic without a wand?� Harry asked.

“Not unusual, no,� Dumbledore replied with a small laugh. “Unheard of. Impossible. Oh, some of us have learned to perform a few simple charms without our wands, but nothing near the level of a Shield Charm. In this regard, as in so many others, you are unique.�

“But if this is supposed to be impossible and I wasn’t able to do it before, how come I can do it now?�

Dumbledore smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a definitive answer, but I do have a reasonable guess.� He paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “Are you familiar with bumblebees, Harry?�

“Yeah, I guess,� Harry replied, completely bewildered by this unexpected turn in the conversation.

“Would you mind describing a bumblebee for me?�

“Well, they’re bigger than honey bees. They’ve got fat little bodies and stubby wings, and they like big bunches of flowers. What does this have to do with magic?�

Dumbledore ignored this question and proceeded with his explanation. “I don’t pretend to know much about Muggle physics, but I was once told by a friend that - because of its ‘stubby wings,’ its ‘fat little body,’ and its slow, lazy rate of buzzing - the bumblebee should not be able to fly. Of course, bumblebees know even less about Muggle physics than I do, so they go on flying anyway. You, Harry, are like a bumblebee.�

“You mean I can do magic without a wand because I don’t know it’s impossible?� Harry asked skeptically.

“Yes,� the Headmaster replied with a smile. “When Dolores Umbridge performed her rather shabby Memory Charm on you, she took your memory, but she inadvertently gave you the opportunity to develop this gift. Had the charm been stronger, as it would have been if performed by a professional, then you would not have had the dreams and flashes of remembrance that led you to begin experimenting with magic. Had it been any weaker, you almost certainly would have remembered that you needed a wand.�

Harry was stunned. Was it really possible that something good was coming out of this whole ordeal? Apparently, it was. “Thank you, Professor,� he said at last. “For not reporting me for underage magic, and especially for coming all the way out here just to talk with me.�

“It was my pleasure,� Dumbledore said as he got to his feet and Vanished his armchair, “but, alas, now I must go. Remember: not a word to anyone.� He left the room and started down the stairs.

---

Harry Potter paced the living room of the Burrow. His friends would be returning from school at any time. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had left for King’s Cross Station at least two hours ago, after making him swear he wouldn’t leave the house. As he paced, his anxiety grew. He was finally going to meet Ron and Hermione in person! Although that probably should have been the most exciting thing about the afternoon, he somehow felt even more anxious to find out if his theory about his ‘dream girl’ (as Tyler had always called her) was correct. It seemed like so long ago when he had finally concluded that the girl’s face that occupied most of his dreams must belong to Hermione. In reality, it had only been a few weeks, but the time seemed to drag by with no lessons to fill up the days. Suddenly, he was jerked from his musings by the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive. After a quick glance out the window to make sure it was the two taxicabs that were supposed to be bringing the Weasleys, Harry dashed outside to meet them.

Before he knew what hit him, he heard a shriek of, “Harry!� and was immediately choked by a rather large amount of bushy brown hair as Hermione enveloped him in an extremely tight embrace. Somewhat awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her in return. As his brain finally caught up with him and he realized exactly who he was hugging, he pulled her closer, enjoying the closeness he felt. A moment later, she pulled away and looked into his face, her hands still gripping his shoulders. Harry’s heart sank. The girl in front of him looked familiar, but she was definitely not the same girl whose face had given him an endless supply of hope during the dreary months at St. Brutus’s.

“Harry, what’s wrong?� Hermione asked in a concerned voice.

Harry shook himself. “Oh, er, nothing. I’m fine. It’s, um, really great to see you.�

“Move over, Hermione, let the rest of us tell him hello.� A tall, lanky boy with flaming red hair - Ron - gave her a playful shove. “How you doing, mate?� he asked Harry. “Mum and Dad didn’t really tell us much - they said it’d be better if we heard everything straight from you, so I hope you’re ready to spill your guts.� He patted Harry on the shoulder in the way that teenage boys do when they want to hug a friend but feel self-conscious about actually doing it. “We’ll talk inside, okay?�

“Sure,� Harry said. He watched as Ron lifted his trunk, leaned over to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and then picked up her trunk as well, carrying both of them toward the house. Harry was suddenly very glad that Hermione had not turned out to be the girl he kept dreaming about - if it had been her, things would have been very awkward indeed.

“So, Hermione whispered as soon as Ron was out of earshot, “have you figured out who the mystery girl is?� Her eyes shone with excitement as she waited for his answer.

Harry shook his head as he distractedly watched Mr. Weasley pull a trunk from the luggage compartment of the second taxi and then move forward to pay the driver. His daughter, Ginny, came around from the other side of the car and began dragging the trunk toward Harry and Hermione. When she looked up, her eyes met Harry’s, and he suddenly stopped breathing. He was staring into those brown eyes that he could lose himself in forever; every feature of that perfect face he had dreamed about for so long was suddenly right there in front of him, framed by a long mane of flaming red hair.

“Harry?� Hermione whispered. “Harry, what’s wrong?�

“It’s... her,� he whispered, still in a daze.

“It’s-� Hermione’s widened in comprehension. “You mean it was Ginny?�

Harry nodded dumbly. Ginny stopped several feet away, apparently not wanting to interrupt his whispered conversation with Hermione.

“Well, what are you going to do?� Hermione asked.

“Do?� Harry shook himself and tore his eyes away from Ginny to look back at Hermione. “What do you mean, what am I going to do? There’s nothing to do.�

Hermione smirked at him. “Don’t give me that; I saw the way you were looking at her just now. You’re smitten, Harry.�

“Shhh! Keep your voice down.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Take it from somebody who knows, Harry,� she whispered. “It’ll only get worse if you put it off. Just ask her out now and get the hard part over with.�

“What?� Harry asked, mortified. “It’s not that easy. I don’t even know her.�

“It is that easy, and you do too know her,� Hermione countered. “You just don’t remember knowing her. I’m going inside now.� Loud enough for everyone to hear, she suggested, “Why don’t you help Ginny with her trunk, Harry?� before shooting him a wink and following Mr. and Mrs. Weasley into the house.

Harry just stood there, unable to move or even think. He seemed incapable of looking away from Ginny’s face, even though he had memorized every last feature months ago.

“Welcome back, Harry,� she said with a small smile. She was looking at him curiously, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Nobody told me you’d been found until we were in the taxi, on our way home.� She laughed softly, causing a small shiver to run down Harry’s spine. “I was ready to murder Hermione for holding out on me.�

“Mhmm,� Harry mumbled.

Ginny gave another soft laugh. “Harry, are you okay? You haven’t blinked for the past five minutes.�

Harry blinked rapidly and shook his head in an effort to dispel his stupor. “I’m fine,� he said. “Can I, er, help you with your trunk?�

Ginny nodded, and he lifted her trunk with his right hand. As she turned to lead him toward the Burrow, he impulsively reached out with his other hand and grasped hers. Ginny froze. Slowly, she turned her head just enough so that she could look at him out of the corner of her eye.

Suddenly self-conscious, Harry muttered, “Sorry,� and pulled his hand back. To his surprise, Ginny didn’t let go; instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze and turned to face him with a shy smile that instantly lifted his spirits.

“Can we talk later?� she asked. “Just the two of us?�

“Sure,� Harry replied as she led him toward the front door. She dropped his hand to push the door open, and didn’t reach for it again as she entered the living room and instructed Harry to leave her trunk at the bottom of the stairs.

“Now sit down,� Hermione commanded, gesturing to a worn armchair. Harry did as she instructed, and Ginny took a seat on the sofa next to Hermione and Ron.

“So?� Ron asked impatiently. “Are you going to tell us what happened or not?�

For the next two hours, Harry recounted his story to his friends, beginning with the previous summer holiday for Ginny’s benefit. Once again, he had to be careful to avoid any references to his doing magic without a wand, which changed the story considerably. Nevertheless, the basic idea was conveyed, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all seemed to gasp and widen their eyes in disbelief at all the right places.

When Harry got to the part about Umbridge having been the one to erase his memory, Ron leaped to his feet with a shout of, “The old hag!�

Hermione just pulled him back down onto the sofa and asked, “What happened next, Harry?�

“Dumbledore brought me back here,� Harry replied. “He said that he can’t reverse the Memory Charm without the wand that was used to cast it, but Fudge is stonewalling. So who knows how long I’ll be like this? I mean, look at me. I know that I know all of you, and we’re really good friends and everything, but I can’t remember anything about any of you.�

“It’ll be okay, Harry,� Ginny said softly. As his eyes fell on her, he couldn’t help feeling that she was right. Her face had been a symbol of hope to him for so long now that he couldn’t help feeling hopeful whenever he looked at her.

“We’re still here for you, mate,� said Ron. “You might not remember us, but we remember you.�

“And if Dumbledore can’t get his hands on Umbridge’s wand, then we’ll find someone who can,� Hermione added vehemently.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley called them all into the kitchen for dinner, and the conversation turned to the previous school year at Hogwarts. Harry listened interestedly as Hermione described some of the new spells they had been learning, and he quickly realized that he had so far only scratched the surface of his magical potential. He still had a lot to learn.

Toward the end of dinner, Harry learned that Ron had been captain of the Quidditch team for Gryffindor house - the house that he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all belonged to - and that they had managed to tie for first place in the Quidditch Cup.

“We tied with Ravenclaw, so it wasn’t so bad,� said Ron. “At least we creamed Slytherin. You should’ve seen Ginny, Harry; she almost knocked Malfoy off his broom.� Ron was grinning madly and his eyes gleamed with malicious delight as he made this pronouncement. Unfortunately for him, Harry still didn’t know many of his old classmates by name.

“Malfoy?� he asked.

“Oh, right,� Ron said. “Sorry. Malfoy’s in our year, and he’s about the foulest git in the whole school. He plays Seeker, the same as you, but since you weren’t there this year, Ginny played Seeker for us. Malfoy likes to play dirty, obviously, but Ginny got so physical with him that he almost fell off his broom. While he was busy trying to right himself, she caught the Snitch.�

Harry looked in amazement at the beautiful, petite girl who was sitting across the table from him. “Ginny got physical, eh? I think I’d like to see that.�

Ginny just shrugged. “Well, I do have six older brothers. If I couldn’t get physical every now and again, I’d never have survived. I think I enjoyed beating Michael to the Snitch more than beating Malfoy, though. It’s too bad we were losing by so much that all we could do was tie for the Cup. If I’d actually had a decent broom, we might have won.�

“Wait, who’s Michael?� Harry asked, trying to keep up with all the information that was flying his way. “And how come you were losing by that much? What happened to the Keeper?�

“He was in the Hospital Wing,� Ron said with a touch of bitterness in his voice. “I’m the Keeper, Harry. Some idiot slipped a shoddy Strengthening Solution into my pumpkin juice the morning of the match, and I ended up unconscious for two days. We didn’t have a reserve Keeper, so that moron McLaggen ended up playing, although as far as I can tell, we could have done just as well playing one man short.�

“And Michael is Ginny’s ex-boyfriend,� Hermione inserted, trying to steer the conversation away from Ron’s unfortunate hospital stay. “He plays Seeker for Ravenclaw, so it just made beating him that much sweeter.�

Harry felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Ginny’s ex-boyfriend as he suddenly remembered something Hermione had mentioned in her first letter to him. “Er- is he the one you broke up with because of me?� he asked awkwardly.

Ginny gaped at him for a moment before turning to glare at Hermione. “What did you tell him?� she hissed.

“Nothing!� Hermione protested. “Oh, wait- Harry, that was Dean, not Michael. Ginny and Michael broke up a long time ago.�

“I did not break up with Dean because of Harry, Hermione!� Ginny insisted.

“Oh, sure,� Ron said with a snort. “As I recall, Dean thought you were a bit too worried about Harry, and accused you of still fancying him - in front of the whole common room. Then you had a blazing row, which ended when you told Dean that maybe you should start fancying Harry again, hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex, and stormed out through the portrait hole.� By the time he finished, Harry and Ginny were both intently examining their fingernails and trying unsuccessfully to fight the heat that had risen in their faces.

“May I be excused?� Ginny asked. She didn’t wait for a response before standing and hurrying out of the kitchen and up to her room.

Hermione elbowed Ron hard in the ribs. “What?� he asked, rubbing his side.

“Couldn’t you tell you were making her uncomfortable?�

“Well yeah, but that’s my job, isn’t it? I am her older brother, after all.�

Hermione just rolled her eyes at him and offered to help Mrs. Weasley clear the table.

That night, Harry lay awake in his bed, thinking about Ginny. Despite the fact that she had asked to talk with him in private earlier that day, he hadn’t seen her since she rushed away from the table. He rolled over, trying to get comfortable, as Ron’s soft snores signaled that he was already asleep. Why had Ginny dropped his hand as soon as they were in sight of her family? Why had she been so embarrassed by Ron’s story at dinner that she practically ran from the room? Still unable to get comfortable, he threw the covers aside and padded across the room. He pulled the door open and nearly ran into a pajama-clad Ginny, who was standing just on the other side.

“Ginny,� Harry breathed.

“Hi,� she whispered. “I told you I wanted to talk in private, remember? Around here, that means after everyone else is asleep. I was just coming up to get you.�

Harry grinned at her, and she smiled back before leading him down the long staircase to the ground floor, and out into the garden. They walked in silence along the garden path, the moon lighting the way, until Ginny stopped at the little pet cemetery near the apple orchard, and gazed down at Hassseth’s headstone.

“She must’ve really been something,� Ginny said at last.

“Yeah,� Harry whispered. “She was.�

“What was she like?�

Harry shrugged. “She was loyal and easy to talk to, and she gave great advice. I know it’s sort of hard to believe, since she was a snake, but she was also kind, and she had a great sense of humor. I always liked it when she laughed, although the first time she scared me half to death.�

“Why?� asked Ginny.

“When she laughed, it sort of sounded like she was choking on something, until I got used to it.� He paused for a long time, just looking at her likeness in the stone. “She sacrificed herself to save my life,� he said at last.

“Thank you,� Ginny whispered to the small headstone, and Harry was surprised to see a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?� Harry asked after a moment.

Ginny looked up quickly. “Oh- no. I didn’t even know about her when I said I wanted to talk in private, remember? I really wanted to ask you why you were holding my hand earlier and staring at me all afternoon.�

Harry laughed self-consciously. “The staring was that obvious, was it?�

Ginny nodded. “I’d be surprised if Ron noticed, but I don’t think anyone else could’ve missed it.�

“Alright then,� Harry began. “While I was at-� he still couldn’t say he had been at St. Brutus’s, “-at school this past year, I kept having this recurring dream. It was just a girl’s face, but somehow that face came to represent hope for me in that depressing place. I went to bed every night hoping to see her again, because I knew that I could just stare into her eyes forever and never get bored.

“I wrote to Ron about her, trying to figure out who she was, but the only description I could give him was, ‘very pretty, with brown eyes,’ since I hadn’t really seen anything other than her face - not even her hair. Ron thought it might be Cho Chang, but as soon as I saw the picture of her that he sent me, I knew it wasn’t her. After that, I convinced myself that it was Hermione, but when I saw her earlier, I knew it wasn’t her, either. Then I saw you, and I knew right away that you were the one I’ve been dreaming about all this time. Hermione told me I should just ask you out right away, but I wasn’t quite ready to do that, so I just grabbed your hand instead.�

Ginny just stood there, eyeing him carefully. “Harry,� she said slowly, “it isn’t that I’m not flattered, because I am, but I think you were right not to ask me out right away. You’ve known me for a long time, and you never noticed me before losing your memory. When you get it back, I’ll just go back to being Ron’s baby sister.� In the bright moonlight, Harry saw tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I think I can handle that, but if we’re together for a while, and then it happens, I won’t do so well. Harry, I’ve wanted you to notice me like this ever since I first met you when I was ten years old, but I just can’t risk getting crushed like that.�

Harry took her shoulders firmly in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. “When I get my memory back, I won’t forget what’s happened over the past year. I won’t forget the way you gave me the hope I needed to keep going while I was at that sorry excuse for a school, even though I didn’t even know who you were at the time. And I won’t forget what I felt when I first saw you today, and every time I’ve looked at you since.�

For several minutes, they stood there, staring into one another’s eyes, hardly even blinking. Then, very slowly, Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Ginny’s forehead. He didn’t breathe as he backed away, terrified that she would slap him at any moment. To his relief, her mouth slowly curled upward into a slight smile.

“I’ll need some time to get used to this,� she said softly.

“Take all the time you need,� Harry reassured her. He shot her a wry smile. “From what I hear, you deserve it.�

“It’s almost two in the morning,� Ginny said as she checked her watch. “We’d better get back to bed. Tomorrow you’re going to have to convince me that this was all real, you know; I’m sure to think it was just a dream.�

“It’s real,� Harry whispered as he took her by the hand and led her back into the house. After a whispered goodnight outside Ginny’s bedroom door, Harry nearly floated up the rest of the stairs to Ron’s bedroom, where he lay down on his camp bed and fell asleep immediately. As they had been for several months, his dreams were filled with the beautiful face of a brown-eyed girl, only now the face was framed by flaming red hair, and she was laughing and talking with him as he stared into her sparkling eyes.

---

A/N: I know, I know, you already knew it was Ginny because you saw the story banner or you realized from my other stories that I can’t bear to see Harry and Ginny with anybody but each other. I did try to throw a few hints out there, like having Hermione mention that Harry’s disappearance had led to Ginny and Dean’s breakup, or having Ginny hide her face in the family photo. I’ll honestly be surprised if anybody tells me they really thought it was Hermione, just because Harry insisted that it had to be her way too often for it to be true.

Anyway, please let me know what you think. Only one more chapter to go, and then it’s off to the sequel!

---

Mrs. Weasley woke Harry early the next morning so that he could see Hermione off. She was leaving to spend the summer holiday with her parents, as usual, and had only come to the Burrow because she had wanted to see Harry in person. He trudged down the stairs in his pajamas and told her to have a safe trip as she boarded the Knight Bus and headed for home. Once the bus had vanished, he followed Ron and Ginny into the kitchen for breakfast.

After a delicious meal of sausage and eggs, Harry, Ron, and Ginny retreated to the living room, where Harry engaged Ron in a game of Wizard chess. Ginny sat nearby, watching them but not engaging in much conversation. It appeared that she was having some sort of internal battle over how she ought to act toward Harry. She obviously wanted to be near him - twice she walked around behind his chair and leaned over his shoulder to look at the chessboard just so she would have an excuse to be physically closer to him - but he could tell she was still afraid that he would drop her like a hot potato the moment his memory returned. Harry couldn’t really blame her - after all, he had apparently ignored her for the entire five years they had known each other - but that didn’t stop him from getting slightly annoyed with her indecision.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Mrs. Weasley asked Ron, Ginny, and Harry for help de-gnoming the garden. With the physical activity for a distraction, they quickly fell into an easy conversation as each of them tried to outdo the others by throwing their gnomes the furthest. The fact that Harry was able to use the task as an excuse to purposely bump into Ginny or brush her hand with his as they reached for the same gnome was just an added bonus. By the time the de-gnoming began winding down, they were all laughing so hard that they could only throw the last few gnomes a few feet, forcing them to catch and re-throw them several times before they could quit for lunch.

Harry spent most of the afternoon listening with rapt attention as Ron and Ginny explained the intricacies of the game of Quidditch, and later playing Wizard chess against Ron again while Ginny mocked his pathetic attempts at strategy. Thankfully, after spending most of the day laughing and joking with Harry and Ron, she seemed to have put aside her discomfort and was just enjoying their company. Although Harry would have preferred to have her treat him more like someone she fancied and less like one of her brothers, it was more important that she not feel uncomfortable around him the way she had that morning.

It’s only been one day, he reminded himself. He had promised Ginny all the time she needed to sort out her feelings, and he meant it, but that didn’t make it any easier to just sit by and wait for her to make a decision. So much had happened over the past couple of days that he couldn’t blame her for being overwhelmed and a bit skeptical of his feelings, though.

The evening passed quickly and uneventfully, and before he knew it, Harry was bidding the Weasleys goodnight once again. As he lay on his camp bed in Ron’s darkened bedroom, he smiled at the ceiling before closing his eyes and slipping into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

* * * * *
Knock, knock, knock!

Harry awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the door to Ron’s bedroom. Ron groaned, mumbled something unintelligible, and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head.

Knock, knock, knock!

This time, it was Harry who groaned as he sat up and fumbled to put on his glasses. He blinked in the morning sunlight that was streaming through the window, and for a moment considered just using magic to open the door. He sighed; he wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of school. Besides, his wand was downstairs in his school trunk, which he still didn’t feel ready to sort through, and he had promised Dumbledore that he wouldn’t let anyone know he could do magic without it. Stretching as he stood, he crossed the room and opened the door.

“Good morning,� he murmured upon seeing Ginny, already dressed for the day, standing just outside the bedroom door. Her eyes were shining with excitement and she was looking at him expectantly.

“Good morning to you,� she said brightly. “Sorry to get you up, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. I was about to barge in and start shaking you.� She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet now, excitement bubbling out of her.

Harry let out a small laugh. “I’m surprised you didn’t.�

“Yeah, well....� Ginny blushed slightly and she looked away. “Let’s just say that one time I burst into Charlie’s room and... er... saw something I’d rather not have. Ever since then, I’ve been really careful to knock very loudly before opening the door.�

“I’m not even going to ask,� Harry said.

“Oy!� came Ron’s muffled voice from within the room. “Take it someplace else; I’m trying to sleep!�

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend. “Is it all right if I get dressed first?�

“No,� Ginny insisted with a laugh as she tugged on his arm, dragging him down the stairs.

“Ginny! What’s this all about?�

“I have a surprise for you,� she said simply. Her eyes shone with anticipation, and Harry couldn’t help feeling excited himself. Ginny was just so alive with energy and enthusiasm that his skin seemed to tingle from merely watching her bounce down the stairs ahead of him.

When they reached the living room, she instructed him to sit on the sofa while she retrieved a large photo album from an end table.

“I know you haven’t gone through your trunk yet,� she began. She paused and bit her lip in a nervous sort of way. “I hope you’re not mad at me, but I remembered you had this, and I thought you might like to look at it.� She handed him the photo album, and waited apprehensively to see if he would explode at her.

“Why would you go through my things without me?� Harry asked without opening the album. It surprised him to find that he wasn’t angry, only curious.

“I- er- well, I wanted to make sure it was really there before getting your hopes up about it.� Ginny was unconsciously wringing her hands while trying not to look nervous, and Harry had to work very hard not to smile at her sudden discomfort.

“It’s okay, Ginny,� he said at last, causing her to release a long breath. “In the future, though, could you come find me so we can go through my things together?� He grinned playfully at her.

Ginny nodded and returned the grin.

“Have a seat, then. You can tell me what it is I’m looking at.�

She sat next to him on the sofa, and opened the photo album for him. Harry’s mouth fell open in astonishment as a young couple waved up at him from the page. Apart from his lack of a lightning bolt scar, the man looked exactly like a slightly older version of him. The woman, her long red hair glistening in the sunlight, was laughing and messing up the man’s hair, causing him to join in her laughter.

“Is that...?� he asked hesitantly.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know how much you know about your mum and dad, Harry, but I’m pretty sure all your pictures of them are in this album.� Her voice was soft, and soothed him against the lump that was forming in his throat.

“I don’t know much of anything about them,� Harry replied in a subdued voice as he studied his parents’ smiling faces. “After I visited the Dursleys with Professor Dumbledore, I guessed that they were magical, but other than that....� His voice trailed off. “Aunt Petunia always refused to talk about them, and I learned a long time ago that it was safer not to ask.�

They began slowly turning the pages of the photo album while Ginny explained that Hagrid, the half-giant Harry remembered seeing in a dream, had collected the photos for Harry because he knew he didn’t have any pictures of his parents. Her voice caught slightly when they came to the Potters’ wedding picture and she pointed out Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black.

“What is it?� Harry asked, noticing that Ginny had suddenly gone very quiet.

“Nothing,� she said quickly, shaking herself.

Harry gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her.

After a long, tense moment, her face crumpled and she finally said, “Okay. Sirius was... he died about a year ago. There was a battle, and-� She stopped, apparently unable to continue.

Harry suddenly felt very awkward. This man, Sirius Black, had been his godfather, yet he couldn’t remember ever having met him. He wondered briefly why he had been forced to live with the Dursleys when he had a wizard godfather who could have taken him in, but the sight of Ginny’s stricken face made him quickly decide that now was not the time to ask. Hesitantly, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly.

“It’s okay, Ginny. If he died in battle, then I’m sure he went out protecting the people he cared about.� It was a little ridiculous that he was comforting Ginny over the loss of his godfather, but Harry honestly didn’t feel any grief. How could he, if he’d never even known the man existed?

Ginny suddenly dissolved into tears, leaning heavily on Harry’s shoulder. Instinctively, he pulled her close and began softly rubbing her back with the palm of his hand. After a few minutes, she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, and laughed weakly.

“Shouldn’t I be the one comforting you about this?� she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I don’t feel bad about finding out he’s dead, but I mean... I can’t even remember meeting him. I guess I’d be a mess if I could remember him, but I can’t.�

Ginny snorted as she wiped away her tears. “Understatement of the year, right there. You were practically insane right up until you disappeared.�

Harry stared at the smiling photo of Sirius, watching as he shook his long black hair out of his eyes. He tried hard to remember the man, to feel some small amount of grief for him, but it was no use. Until Dumbledore found a way to get his hands on Umbridge’s wand, Sirius Black would remain a mystery.

“Come on,� Ginny said after a moment, “let’s keep looking at these pictures. This is supposed to be happy, right?� Harry’s stomach did a little flip as she snuggled up closer to him and rested her head on his chest to resume turning the pages of the album. His attention was split between the images of his parents in the book and the feeling of Ginny pressed up against him. One moment he would be wondering how his parents had first met, and the next he would be asking himself if Ginny’s behavior meant she had finally gotten over her fear that he would break her heart. As they sat in companionable silence, examining a photo of the Potters with baby Harry, they suddenly heard loud footsteps descending the stairs. Immediately, Ginny stiffened and moved away, causing Harry to swear under his breath.

“Morning,� Ron called with a yawn as he entered the living room.

Ginny rolled her eyes irritably. “It’s 12:30, Ron - not morning anymore.�

Ron’s eyes widened in surprise. “How come Mum didn’t get me up?�

“Because she left early to do some shopping in Diagon Alley.�

Ron nodded. “Right. Well, time for breakfast and lunch, then.�

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Breakfast and lunch?�

“Of course,� Ron answered without batting an eye. “I can’t go without breakfast - it’s the most important meal of the day - but it’s already lunchtime. I have no choice but to combine the two.�

Ginny stifled a laugh and said, “I already had breakfast, so I think I’ll just stick to lunch this time around.� She and Harry followed Ron into the kitchen.

“What have you two been up to, anyway?� Ron asked after piling a plate full of eggs, sausage, and sandwiches that his mother had left for them. “I remember Ginny dragging you out of bed really early this morning, Harry, but I never thought whatever she wanted would take until after noon.�

Harry laughed as he began making himself a sandwich. “She got me up at eleven, Ron; that isn’t exactly ‘really early.’�

“What did she want?�

“I’m right here, you know,� Ginny said irritably. “I wanted to show him the photo album of his parents. He didn’t remember he had it, and I thought he might enjoy it.�

“You were right,� Harry said, looking intently into her eyes. After only a brief moment, Ginny blushed slightly and looked away.

“So you’ve just been looking at old photos of Harry’s parents?� Ron asked after swallowing another bite of food.

“For the most part,� Ginny answered evasively. Harry wondered why she was acting like they had something to hide.

“What do you mean, ‘for the most part’?� Ron demanded in a suspicious tone. “What else were you doing?� His ears had begun to take on a dark red hue, making Harry very uneasy.

Ginny waited until her brother took a very large gulp of pumpkin juice, before saying, as casually as possible, “Snogging.�

The effect was as immediate as it was predictable: the table - actually, the entire room - in front of Ron was sprayed with sticky orange-ish juice. Harry merely stared dumbly at Ginny, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sno- You- What?� Ron spluttered. His face was nearly as red as his hair, and he was gripping the edge of the table for support.

Ginny smirked at her brother. “I couldn’t help it,� she said with a shrug, “he’s just irresistible.�

Harry and Ron gaped at her for almost a full minute before Ginny began to laugh uncontrollably. “You should’ve seen your face,� she gasped in between giggles. “Both of you, actually - it was priceless! But Ron, you really ought to clean up this mess before Mum gets home.�

“Merlin, Ginny, don’t play around like that,� Ron finally choked out. “You almost gave me a heart attack.� He glanced over at Harry. “Looks like you almost gave Harry one, too.� After staring at the mess in front of him for a moment, he sighed. “I really ought to go up and get my wand so I can clean this up with magic, but it seems like such a waste to climb all those stairs.� Harry just laughed and shook his head. Ron’s laziness was only creating more work for him.

While Ron hurriedly mopped up the juice, Harry and Ginny ate their sandwiches and chatted quietly about nothing at all. Harry wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, though - his mind kept drifting back to the joke Ginny had pulled on Ron. He supposed it was a good sign that she was at least able to joke about kissing him, even if she wasn’t willing to be seen resting her head on his shoulder, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up.

As Harry was carrying his and Ginny’s empty plates to the sink, the house suddenly echoed with three very loud booms. The noise came from the front door, but it sounded more like a battering ram than a knock. The three teens looked warily at one another before Harry took off for the door at a run. None of them had their wands and, as he was the only one who could do magic without one, he was determined to be the first to face whatever lay outside that door.

Just as Harry arrived at the front door, there was another series of loud booms, and he could see the door shuddering under the onslaught. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ron and Ginny watching the door nervously. “Wands,� he mouthed silently at them. They nodded, and Ron hurried up the stairs while Ginny waved for Harry to follow them. He shook his head.

“Harry, I’m not leaving you down here with who knows what trying to break down the door!� she hissed. “Come on!�

“No,� he whispered. “I’ll be fine; trust me.�

Suddenly remembering that Harry’s school trunk was still in the living room, Ginny rushed over to it and flipped it open. Two wands lay on top of his broomstick and an extremely disorganized pile of robes, books, and other odds and ends. She snatched the wands and ran back over to Harry, handing him his wand and keeping Peter Pettigrew’s for herself.

Boom. Boom. Crash!

The sound of splintering wood filled the room as the hinges and bolt gave way and the front door of the Burrow flew inward. Harry pushed Ginny behind him as he raised his wand in preparation to curse whoever - or whatever - was on the other side of the door.

“Stupefy!� he shouted, sending a jet of red light at the enormous man in the doorway.

Instead of falling to the ground unconscious as Harry had expected, the gigantic man only blinked in surprise. “Blimey, Harry, tha’s no way ta greet an ol’ friend. Bit jumpy, are yeh?�

“Hagrid!� Ginny shouted in relief, laughing and running forward to give the man a hug. She laughed harder when her head nearly disappeared in his wildly tangled beard. “What are you doing here?�

“Came to see Harry, o’ course,� answered the half-giant. He stooped to pass through the doorway, and picked up the door. “Sorry ‘bout the door; don’t know me own strength sometimes.�

Behind Hagrid, other people began filing through the doorway. First came a middle-aged man with threadbare robes and prematurely gray hair, who immediately rushed over to Harry and gripped his shoulder, greeting him in an almost fatherly way. Next were Fred and George Weasley, the twins Mrs. Weasley had told him about, who were grinning madly at Hagrid and the broken door. Finally, Dumbledore entered the room and surveyed the damage.

“We’ll take that, Hagrid,� said George, pointing to the door. Harry could tell it was George because he wore a large nametag that said GEORGE in the center of his chest. His twin wore a similar nametag that said FRED. Harry supposed the nametags were for his benefit.

“We’ll put it back good as new,� added Fred.

“Alrigh’,� Hagrid began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t last a day if Molly learned that I had allowed two of her sons to jinx her front door while supposedly repairing it,� he said. “I’ll take it, Hagrid.� While Dumbledore levitated the door back into place, the twins tried to look offended.

“Frankly, Professor, I’m shocked-� said Fred.

“-appalled-� George added.

“-that you could even think-� Fred continued.

“-much less suggest out loud-� agreed George.

“-that we would ever do anything to upset our dear mother,� Fred finished.

“Sadly, I know you too well,� Dumbledore sighed dramatically, causing everyone to laugh.

“What’s going on here?� Ron asked from the bottom of the stairs. “Was that you banging on the door, Hagrid?�

“Er- well, yeh see....�

“We thought somebody was trying to break the door down!� Ron shouted.

“Which is why we asked Hagrid to do the knocking,� George said with a wink.

“How are you, Harry?� the tattered-looking man asked at last. “Professor Dumbledore told us everything, of course, but....�

Harry nodded. “I’m fine,� he said. “Er, not to be rude or anything, but... who are you exactly?�

“Oh, of course - where are my manners?� said the man. He extended his hand, saying, “Remus Lupin.�

“Harry Potter,� Harry said as he shook the man’s hand.

Lupin laughed. “I know who you are, Harry. We actually spent a fair bit of time together when I was your professor a few years back.�

“Er- right,� Harry said awkwardly. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy about the fact that everyone else knew so much more about him than he did.

“Why don’t we all sit down?� Ginny suggested as she took a seat in a nearby armchair. Everyone seemed to agree, and they all hurriedly found seats. Lupin sat in an armchair, and Hagrid squeezed onto the sofa with the twins because there were no chairs large enough for him. Harry and Ron took the remaining two armchairs.

Looking around, Harry suddenly realized that Dumbledore was still standing. “I’ll go get another chair,� he said, starting to get up.

“No need,� said the Headmaster. He twirled his wand once, conjuring the same squashy purple armchair that he had used when talking to Harry about his ability to do magic without a wand. Once he was seated, he surveyed the small gathering for a moment before saying, “As much as it pains me to do this, Harry, I’m afraid I must return you to your relatives’ home for a portion of the summer holiday.�

“WHAT!� The exclamation came from everyone but Dumbledore, Lupin, and Hagrid, who Harry suspected had been informed of this plan in advance.

“You can’t send him back there,� Ron shouted, leaping to his feet. “They’re the-� Ron called the Dursleys a name that Harry was sure he shouldn’t have said in front of his Headmaster, “-that lost him his memory in the first place!�

“Sit down, Mr. Weasley,� Dumbledore said in a calm but firm voice. Ron sat. “I hope you all believe me when I say that this is completely necessary.�

“It was necessary last year, and look what happened,� Ginny spat bitterly.

“I’m not going back there,� Harry said flatly.

Dumbledore sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose. “I was afraid you might have that reaction, Harry, but the situation is more serious than you realize.�

“Yeah, well I might realize how serious things are if the bloody Dursleys hadn’t let that Umbridge woman wipe out my memory in the first place.� Harry was not about to return to the Dursleys’ for anyone - not even Dumbledore. He glared contemptuously at the old man, and fought the urge to test his reflexes by firing off a Stunner at him.

“Harry, your friend, Miss Granger, told you about the group of dark wizards who are after you, correct?� Dumbledore asked, trying a different tack.

“Yeah,� Harry answered. “I met a few of them in person the night I ran away from school, too.�

“Did she happen to mention a particular dark wizard named Lord Voldemort?� A shiver ran through half of the gathering at the mention of this name; Harry, Ginny, Lupin, and Dumbledore seemed to be unaffected, while Ron, Fred, George, and Hagrid all flinched at the sound.

“No,� Harry answered, confused at the reaction to the dark wizard’s name.

“I thought not,� said Dumbledore. “Harry, this wizard, Lord Voldemort, has a deep personal grudge against you.� Everyone in the room exchanged significant looks, causing Harry’s unease to grow.

“What is it?� Harry asked, not at all sure that he really wanted to know. “What aren’t you telling me?�

Dumbledore seemed to make a quick decision. Looking him straight in the eye, he said, “Harry, Lord Voldemort was once the most feared dark wizard in the world. Among others, he murdered your parents. He tried to murder you as well, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that your mother had sacrificed herself to save you. Her sacrifice caused his Killing Curse to rebound on him, reducing him to something that was barely alive. The only mark the curse left upon you was that scar on your forehead.�

Harry gaped at him, his mind reeling at Dumbledore’s words. Whatever he had been expecting, this certainly hadn’t been it. The Dursleys had always told him that his parents had been killed in a car crash, and no one here had bothered to tell him differently until now. Tears pricked his eyes as he realized once again how very little he knew about his parents - or, for that matter, about himself. Finally, after taking a deep breath to calm himself, he asked what seemed to be the most relevant of all the questions swimming in his mind. “What does all that have to do with the Dursleys?�

“Your mother’s sacrifice created a powerful protection for you, Harry, but it is only able to work if you can call the place where her blood dwells, home. Your mother’s blood resides in her sister - your aunt. The only way to keep you safe from Lord Voldemort until you come of age is to return you to the home of your relatives.�

“But why do I even have to worry about this Lord Voldemort?� Harry asked. “I mean, you said yourself that he was barely alive. Surely he can’t do anything to me no matter where I am.�

“Lord Voldemort returned to power two years ago. I believe your friends mentioned his return in their letters.�

Harry glanced down at the thin scars on the back of his right hand, which distinctly spelled out the words, ‘I must not tell lies.’

“Yeah, I remember them telling me that,� he said. “I told everybody he was back, and that’s what got Umbridge on my case in the first place. Can’t we just go curse her and take her wand?� All of the Weasleys present made noises of agreement.

“No we can’t,� Lupin said firmly. “We must do everything we can to work within the bounds of the law, Harry. If we begin flouting the rights of others, we will be dangerously close to becoming exactly like those we oppose.�

Harry’s anger flared. “Flouting the rights-� he began shouting.

“Sirius was wrongly imprisoned for twelve years without a trial!� Lupin shouted over the top of him as he sprang to his feet. His calm demeanor had vanished, replaced with an almost animal rage. “And we all thought that was well and good, until we found out that he was really innocent!�

Harry didn’t understand what Lupin was shouting about, but his words stung all the same. He was close to tears as he glared at Harry with such a fierce expression on his face that Harry found himself sinking lower in his chair.

“What Mr. Lupin is trying to tell you, Harry, is that we have all been wronged by those who believed themselves to be above the law,� said Dumbledore. “We cannot allow ourselves to engage in the hypocrisy of condemning such attitudes while harboring them ourselves.�

Harry slumped further as the fight went out of him. “Yes sir,� he mumbled in a bitter tone. “I’ll go get my things.� He stood and walked toward the stairs, only to find his path blocked by Ginny. She stood with her hands on her hips and an extremely angry expression on her face.

“That’s it?� she asked in disbelief. “You’re going just like that?�

“I have to,� Harry muttered with a shrug. “You heard them; it’s the only thing that can keep me safe from Voldemort.�

Ginny bit her lip. After years of waiting, she was finally getting the kind of attention from Harry that she had always wanted, and he could see that she was extremely reluctant to let him go so easily, despite her refusal to begin any sort of “official� relationship. Finally, she said, “I’m not letting you go until you promise me something.�

“Oh?� Harry asked while trying to hide a smile. They both knew that if he wanted to, he could easily lift her and move her out of his way whether she wanted him to or not. Then again, she looked so fierce at the moment that he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. “What do I have to promise?�

She looked intently into his eyes. “Promise you won’t disappear or forget again.�

Harry chuckled a little. “I promise,� he said.

“How can you promise that?� she asked without breaking her gaze. “You didn’t mean for it to happen last time, and it did.�

“Let’s just say that living in a boarding school full of delinquents helped me learn a few new tricks. I guarantee you that there’s no way what Umbridge did would come close to working now.� He could feel several sets of curious eyes on him, waiting for him to elaborate, but that was as much as he as willing to say on the subject. “Come on, Ginny,� he added softly, “I’ve got to go. I’ll write you as soon as I arrive, I promise.�

Reluctantly, Ginny stepped aside, allowing Harry to pass. After telling everyone he would be right back, he ran upstairs to gather his clothes and schoolbag, and carried them back down to the living room where he dumped them, along with his and Pettigrew’s wands and his photo album, inside his trunk.

“Before we leave, there is one more thing I would like to ask,� said Dumbledore. He looked at the twins, his eyes twinkling merrily. “As you know, we had a bit of trouble with Harry’s relatives last year. I would like the two of you to take turns- what would you call it? ‘Keeping them in line.’ I cannot, of course, condone any sort of Muggle-baiting; however, you have my permission to frighten them just enough to keep them civil. Can I trust you to do that?�

Fred and George were wearing identical grins. “Of course, Professor,� they chorused.

“Er, Professor Dumbledore?� Harry asked. “If they use magic at Privet Drive, won’t I get in trouble with the Ministry of Magic?�

“Goodness, no,� Dumbledore answered with a laugh. “It would look far too suspicious for Madam Umbridge to have the Improper Use of Magic Office begin watching your relatives’ house again, and no one else at the Ministry knows you’ve been removed from their list. Well, that’s not entirely true. Arthur Weasley knows, but he’s hardly going to do something that would create more problems for you.�

“So you’re saying that the Ministry won’t know if magic’s being done at my aunt and uncle’s?�

“Exactly,� Dumbledore said with a wink. “Now, I’m afraid we must be off - we’re on a bit of a schedule. Ready, Harry?�

“Oh no you don’t,� Ron said in a loud voice. “I see what’s going on here. You’re trying to get Harry out of the house before Mum gets home so me and Ginny will have to be the ones to tell her he’s gone back to the Muggles.�

Dumbledore’s face was inscrutable, but his eyes twinkled as he said, “Now what would give you that idea?�

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. “See you mate. I’m sure I’ll be back here in no time.�

“Take care of yourself,� Ron replied. “And don’t let those two-� he nodded at the twins, “-give you too much trouble.�

“I won’t,� Harry promised. He turned to Ginny next, and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry,� he whispered so that only she could hear. “I’ll see you soon.� She nodded as he pulled away. After giving her a small smile, he carried his trunk and Hedwig’s cage out the door behind Dumbledore.

As they passed the Weasleys’ old broom shed, Harry stopped suddenly. “I just remembered something,� he said, and raced over to the dilapidated building, emerging a moment later with Peter Pettigrew’s damaged broom. It was still covered in a layer of dried mud, making it barely recognizable as the handsome broomstick he had taken from St. Brutus’s. “Is there someone I need to give this to, Professor?� he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. “Pettigrew had no legal heirs. If you wish to keep it, his broomstick is yours. For that matter, you may keep his wand as well.�

“Right,� said Harry, and he flipped open his trunk and placed the dirty, broken broomstick alongside his Firebolt. “Okay. Now I’m ready,� he said as he closed the trunk again. Dumbledore nodded and sent the trunk and cage ahead of them with a wave of his wand. Then he extended his arm for Harry to grasp. Gritting his teeth in anticipation of the discomfort of Apparition, Harry forced his face into something of a smile for Ron’s and Ginny’s benefit, and entered the constricting rubber tube that would lead him to Privet Drive.

THE END

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A/N: What? Harry’s memory is still gone and he didn’t quite get the girl? What’s going on? Before you all start sending me Howlers for ending the story here, let me just say one word: Sequel. I just felt like this was the right place to end this story because Harry Potter stories always end when he goes back to the Dursleys’ house for the summer.

So... the sequel is called A Past Reclaimed, and I will submit the first chapter as soon as this one is validated.

Thank you so much to all my faithful readers and reviewers; you’ve been absolutely wonderful. I hope you stick with me for the sequel!